


To Seek a Newer World

by Francienyc



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francienyc/pseuds/Francienyc
Summary: Peridan left the Lone Islands, the only world he knew, to escape ignominy and chase nobility in a new Narnia. He did not expect to find it, nor did he imagine he would fall in love with a king.
Relationships: Peridan/Edmund Pevensie
Comments: 32
Kudos: 20





	1. By This Still Hearth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kings and Queens arrive in Narrowhaven.

‘I think we should go to Narrowhaven,’ I announced.

I had chosen the moment carefully. We were sitting at dinner, and it was after the first course so that Uncle would not be too hungry when I put a proposition to him—he was even less receptive to my ideas when he was feeling peckish. I also made sure it was before the second course was set in front of us—he did not like to talk ‘business’ while eating.

Uncle Emdir made that little wheezing sigh through his nose. If I had not feared him so much the sound would have made me laugh. It was that of a tired sounding toy, high and complaining but losing air. ‘What possesses your mind to think of Narrowhaven?’ He did not look at me; rather he busied himself pouring a goblet of wine.

‘The Kings and Queens, of course!’ Aurie burst out. I put up my hand to silence her and gave her a look. We had gone through this before dinner, that I would ask and she should stay silent. We were both keen to go, but at nine Aurie was still too impetuous, and impetuosity only made Uncle start quoting Calormene poetry to us.

‘Hm,’ said Uncle Emdir. ‘I have no interest in seeing the Barbarian Kings and Queens. I intend to never set foot in Narnia. I have been successful these forty-seven years.’

‘He who they call the High King is our Emperor here in the Islands. He is worthy of our honour,’ I answered.

‘Hm.’

‘Everyone is going,’ I pressed. ‘There will be a welcome ceremony, and the Governor will host a ball. We are one of the first families of Narnia. It is our duty to be there.’

I looked at him down the length of the polished table. He still refused to look me in the face; this was true most of the time. Aurie, who was seated between us along the side of the table, shuttled her eyes between us. She opened her mouth to exhort him, but I gave her a shake of the head.

‘We must see this as an opportunity,’ I said. ‘The Islands have been ignored by Narnia these past hundred years. With a new age beginning, there are also new opportunities. Opportunities for trade and for favour. If we fail to greet the emperor and his consorts, we already fall behind.’

At last, Uncle looked up, his eyes narrowed as he appraised me. I swallowed, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. The servants put the food before us, and that was an opportune moment, for Uncle would not want to deliberate while eating.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘We shall go.’ Aurie gasped with excitement, but I contained mine, and turned my attention to the dinner just set before me so that he might not see he granted something that made me happy.

After dinner, Aurie came bursting into my room. ‘We get to go!’ She cried, the flounces of her nightdress bouncing along with her. ‘I can’t wait! Uncle has never let me go to Narrowhaven in the first place, and I’ve been stuck on boring old Avra my whole life. You’re so lucky that you’ve been. What’s it like?’

I searched for a way to describe Narrowhaven. ‘I don’t know. It’s Narrowhaven. There’s the school and the governor’s palace and the town with the white buildings and the blue roofs. It’s pretty.’ 

‘Think of all the people though, and the market. I bet you can buy whatever sweets you want! I can’t wait until I get to go to school there.’ She flopped into my window seat.

‘You should have let me handle Uncle,’ I told her.

She rolled her eyes. ‘You always say he has a soft spot for me.’

‘So he does. But he’ll know if you’re using that against him, and instead of a soft spot, you’ll find him hardened to you,’ I warned. ‘He’s much cleverer than us when it comes to that sort of thing.’

‘Is that what happened? Is that why he hates you so much these days?’ She asked. Her eyes were searching.

I looked away and shrugged.

‘Why won’t you tell me?’ She demanded. ‘I’m not stupid. I know he’s angry with you.’

I looked out over our garden of lemon trees. I could see the shapes of the fruit glowing bright in the dusk. Beyond that I could hear the gentle tinkling of the fountain in the gardens. I drew a breath. ‘There are some things you’re better off not knowing,’ I told her.

Aurie gave half a sigh, half a groan. ‘You talk like a grown up, but you’re only fourteen,’ she complained, but she didn’t press me any further. ‘You are looking forward to seeing the Kings and Queens though, aren’t you?’

Here I turned to smile at her. ‘Very much.’

‘What do you think they’re like?’

I tucked myself into the window seat with her and wrapped my arms round my knees. ‘I hardly know. They must be very powerful warriors and great people to break such an enchantment, don’t you think?’ I gave her a conspiratorial smile.

‘Then they must be very handsome and very beautiful,’ she added.

I laughed. ‘Is that all it takes to be great?’ She shrugged. ‘I was led to believe there’s something more to it.’

She giggled. ‘Perhaps. I wouldn’t know—because I’ve never seen anything but stupid Avra. Nothing ever happens here.’

‘Now that is true,’ I agreed. I rested my cheek on my knees. ‘Everything feels different now in the Islands now that there’s been no more sickness, and Narnia is becoming itself again. I should like to be a part of it. I feel that’s what father would have wanted.’

The next day I rode over to Orran’s estate, taking Aurie with me. Although Uncle liked her, I thought it best for her to get out from under his thumb when she could. Else she might be like him.

Orran had seen us coming, and he was waiting on the steps to greet us with his two younger children. Kyran was a year Aurie’s senior and Daia a year her junior, and the long closeness of our houses made them lifelong friends. Aurie jumped down from her horse and ran off with them at once. I greeted Orran, clasping his forearm.

‘Every time I see you, I think you’ve grown more,’ Orran said, gripping the back of my neck. I remembered my father using the same affectionate gesture. ‘Soon you will be a full fledged man.’ I blushed at this and ducked away.

‘What brings your lordship here today, then?’ Orran asked as we climbed the steps together.

‘Good news,’ I replied. ‘I managed to get Uncle to agree that we should go to Narrowhaven to see the Kings and Queens.’

‘That is good news!’ He exclaimed. ‘You ought to be there. You’re Lord of Lionshaim.’

Orran led me into his antechamber where he had laid out fruits and cheeses and pastries and chutneys, a casual tea in the Island style. Although of course there was no tea, but sherbert and coffee. Aurie was jealous that I got coffee, but of course I only drank coffee and wine at Orran’s house and official functions. At home, Uncle Emdir insisted I drink juice like any other child.

I took some food and then sat back. ‘All that remains is for us to get passage over to Doorn. I wish I could convince Uncle to let us buy a ship. A boat even. Anyway, I tried engaging a ferry, but they’ve all been booked. I came to sound you out for ideas.’

‘Nothing simpler!’ Orran cried with a clap of his hands. ‘You sail with us. Aurie can stay with Kyran and Daia when we assemble to greet the Kings and Queens. They’ll love it.’

‘Where will I be?’ I asked. 

‘Exactly where you should be—in your rightful place among the Narnian Lords in exile.’

I picked some grapes off their stem and let them roll on my plate. ‘They’re not going to let me. Just like they don’t let me in the Council Chamber.’

‘They will this time. I’m going to go speak with the governor tomorrow about some other matters. I will remind him of your kinship, and that all the reports back from Narnia say that these Kings and Queens seem to expect people to be honest and fair, and that if he were found denying a rightful Lord of Narnia his place, then our Emperor is likely to be very displeased.’

I dared to smile a bit. ‘How do you think of these things?’

‘The same way you do. Look at how you mastered your uncle,’ Orran said, toasting me with his coffee cup.

I bowed my head over my plate and spread cheese on some bread with great care. But I smiled a bit to myself, and stored Orran’s kind words up. In the days after Father died I used to dream of asking if I could live with him, but he had four children of his own, and a wife, and his wife’s parents living at his house. There wasn’t room for me.

A fortnight later the bells started ringing in the pale before dawn. I opened my eyes at once and stared into my shadowy room, my heart drumming with excitement. I rushed to get ready and soon we set off for the docks in the carriage with Orran’s family. Everyone clambered into the boat with broad yawns.

The boat pushed off and joined the score of others coming off their own private quays and docks to cross the channel between Avra and Doorn. There was still a mist on the water, and we could only see the outlines of the boats and the lanterns hanging above them like so many blurred moons.

By the time we arrived, the mist had lifted to show a mild dawn with a peach coloured sun. I had expected something more spectacular for such an auspicious day. My next disappointment came in the waiting. We disembarked and passed the dock where the royal ship would put in. Workers were still finishing off the decorations and the fencing and the slow thud of their hammers echoed in the quiet air. I squinted out at the harbour. I could see a ship approaching, but it was far off and indistinct.

We nobles did not wait with the people who were starting to congregate; instead everyone went into one of the two important inns and breakfasted, a quiet breakfast where everyone hunched over their coffee due to the early hour. After breakfast, when the sun was up and the wind warmer and sweeter and more people milled about, excitement started to fill the air. The ship was no longer a shadow, but a real thing with the Emperor’s lion rampant emblazoned on the sails, the scarlet lion which had not been seen in Narnia for a hundred years. The harbour started to buzz with conversation. The children, more awake after breakfast, began to shout and play. More of the common people arrived, and the governor joined the lords in our grandstand. 

Orran leaned over to me and whispered, ‘Your father believed his whole life he would see this day.’

‘I know,’ I said, my voice cracking. I still had trouble controlling that sometimes. I folded my cloak around me and drew in a breath. I wished he could have been standing there in his rightful place instead of me, a boy lord who didn’t know what he was about.

The musicians arrived and they struck up melodies as they tuned their instruments. Occasionally a bass drum pounded. The weather cleared a bit and became one of those odd days where low hanging clouds have huge gaps in them which filtered rays of sunlight. These lit up the ocean and it was dazzling patches of deep cerulean and bright, glassy green.

A hush came over the crowd. Now we stood to attention, eager to both see the emperor and show him who his people were. Everything was still but for the light breeze which played over the harbour, ruffling hair and skirts and banners.

The gangway was lowered, and the musicians took this as their cue to start up one of the old Narnian chants that had been brought across in the first days of exile. The crowd took it up. Then the drum began beating a steady rhythm. We were a host of excited whispers. The trumpets blared a royal fanfare and we all held our breath. 

At the top of the gangway appeared a boy king, and behind him, three other children.

The noise died out for a moment as everyone choked on their surprise. I knew what they were all thinking. I was half thinking it myself. Surely a youth barely more than a child could not be the liberator of Narnia. Impossible for a boy who could not even grow a beard. 

But those who had already been to Narnia sent up a cheer. The drums beat again. Then a sunbeam pierced through the clouds and anointed the High King with light. He looked up, squinting a bit in the brightness, and everything about him shone, from his golden crown and the brooch pinning his scarlet cape across his shoulders to his golden hair and keen eagle eyes—his very face and his whole being. He was, in short, magnificent, and we only missed a beat before we began to cry ‘Hail to the Emperor, Peter the High King! Hail to his consorts! Queen Susan! King Edmund! Queen Lucy!’ These names had been reverently whispered in the Lone Islands for some two years, and now the names were attached to real people, but ones who seemed, in that moment, legends come to life.

The High King caught so much of my attention I didn’t properly notice the others until they were at the bottom of the gangway. Queen Lucy was barely older than Aurie, and although she was alight with girlish joy, there was also something wise in her face, and the sun upon her made her as shining as her eldest brother.

Beside the High King stood Queen Susan, and I saw that what they said was true—she might be the most beautiful woman in the world, even though she was still a girl. The men around me muttered their appreciation. I worked to hide my disgust—she was half their age. She seemed aware of the stares and gravitated close to her elder brother. She didn’t realise that her shyness made her more beguiling.

King Edmund, meanwhile, surveyed the scene with sharp eyes. He closely resembled Queen Susan with dark hair and fair skin. His eyes were dark where hers was a deep blue, and framed by long lashes, but he used these to shade their expression and watch from beneath them. While everything about Queen Susan’s appearance was perfectly arranged artistry. King Edmund had a shock of dark hair which fell across his forehead, giving him a more rakish appearance. While Queen Susan put herself willingly on display, King Edmund was a watcher who did not allow himself to be watched. But underneath this was the awkwardness of fourteen, being somewhere between man and boy with altogether too much length and not enough strength to balance it out. I recognised this so well because I saw it in myself every time I looked in the mirror. And I thought: if a boy my age could save Narnia and become a king, what might I do? My thoughts flew so fast I couldn’t catch them.

I stared, and Edmund must have felt it. He looked up, and our eyes met. His brows shot up in surprise and his mouth pursed a bit. He turned to Queen Lucy and murmured something to her, gesturing subtly at me. She strained to see, and when she caught sight of me, she waved. I half lifted my hand and curled my fingers to wave back.

The Kings and Queens processed on, following the governor to greet the people who were cheering wildly now. Before they were fully past me, King Edmund turned and gave me one more searching look and then, though I might have imagined it, the smallest quirk of a smile.


	2. A Savage Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am introduced to the monarchs, and chance a dance with a Queen.

The governor’s palace loomed above all of Narrowhaven, glowing on its high rock under the moon. Orran led the way up, and I fell into step a pace or two behind him, so that he had to half turn as he spoke to me. I wouldn’t walk abreast though. I needed a shield.

All the great of the Lone Islands had assembled for the welcome ball, and they rotated around the ballroom eyeing each other with sharp eyes that glittered in the candlelight. The room was full of the hush of expectation, the whispers of conversation, the rustling of silks. Once Orran and I were separated, I retreated to the balcony outside. I went to the railings and watched the festivities in the square, silent at such a distance, but bright with the colours of lanterns and costumes. Beyond that I could se the graceful lines of the royal ship as it was docked in the harbour. I thought that watercolours might do for blending all the purples, or chalk pastels for the fuzzy outlines. I glanced over my shoulder. When I was sure I was alone, I drew out my little sketchbook and a stub of a pencil. I had to use the side to get the right shading, and I started to work intently—too intently.

‘I’m surprised you had the courage to show your face here, Lionshaim.’

I jumped at the voice and made to conceal the book, but Gormal crossed the balcony in two strides and snatched it from me. I twisted my mouth but stood still while he squinted at the picture. ‘There’s not a bit of you that fits in, is there? A half Calormene who decides to doodle at the most important ball of our lives. And that’s the forgivable stuff.’ 

He smiled a wolf’s smile, and behind him there was a snerk of laughter. I saw that Gormal was flanked by Rehan, who was always trying to curry favour with the governor’s son, and, more surprisingly, Taran. Taran didn’t usually care about Gormal’s bullying—he was too busy working harder than anyone at being perfect. I narrowed my eyes at him, but Taran only lifted his chin. 

I sized things up by making a grab for my sketchbook. Gormal threw it over the balcony and I watched it land in the gardens below. I gripped my pencil so hard it snapped in my hand. I made to push past them. 

Gormal and Rehan blocked my way, sneering down at me.

‘Leave me be,’ I said. My shoulders slumped.

‘I just think it’s funny how you continue to be so bold,’ Gormal continued. ‘The half caste boy lord with the blackest of marks to his name thinking he can present himself to the Emperor.’

‘It is my right,’ I said quietly. 

‘Not all rights should be exercised,’ said Taran. ‘Do you really think you of all people should dare present yourself to the Great Liberator, Peter the High King?’

The sennet announcing the monarchs sounded. I tried to get past them again, but Gormal shoved me back. I reeled a couple of paces.

Gormal smiled another awful smile. ‘To be fair, Taran, Peridan will cause his own ruin first. Once the Emperor finds out what he is, he’s sure to reject our weird little friend here. I mean, we all have.’ Rehan sneered in agreement.

They turned then and went in. Taran cast a baleful look over his shoulder. If I were a bit younger I would have pulled faces behind their backs, but I was old enough to see the uselessness of that.

I skulked outside until it was time for presentations and I could hide no longer. I stood with Aurie and Uncle as we queued up to be announced and watched the other lords and their families buzzing with excitement. Mothers were organising their children, straightening clothes, neatening hair with spit wet fingers. Fathers told their sons to straighten their shoulders. I thought of the first time I had been to the Governor’s Palace with Father. He had reclasped my cloak round my shoulders and took me by them.

‘Remember who we are,’ he said, looking into my face.

‘The most noble house of Lionshaim,’ I piped. I was only six or seven.

‘The most noble house of Lionshaim,’ he repeated. ‘The oldest house on the Islands still standing. Our name—your name—is recited in the epics and sagas. Remember that.’

‘Hm,’ said Uncle Emdir, bringing me out of my memory. ‘We should be first. It is the right of this house.’

‘There is nothing I can do about that, Uncle,’ I said wearily.

He rolled his eyes. ‘I know.’

I wrapped my arms around myself.

We had been relegated to towards the end of the presentations, and I was almost grateful for the fact that the Kings and Queens were sure to be bored when the steward called us forward. Even the steward sounded laconic as he droned ‘The Lord Peridan of Lionshaim, and the members of his house—his noble sister Laureliana and his Uncle Emdir.’

As we strode up the aisle made before the dais, though, I felt four sets of eyes watching me. I looked up, and by chance made eye contact with King Edmund. He arched a brow slowly. I sank into a bow. When I rose from it, his eyes were still on me and I couldn’t tell if the mirth in them was to mock me or to let me in on some secret. I glanced at the others. Queen Lucy gave me a grin, and Queen Susan’s head was tilted as she looked at me.

We were hustled on, and I didn’t get any further chance to understand anything about the exchange. The dancing began, and I drew back to the sidelines, Simar found me. He stood next to me, but I didn’t turn to look at him. I pretended he wasn’t there.

‘Meet me in the corridor behind the dragon tapestry,’ he murmured.

There was a long pause before I finally said. ‘No.’

‘Coward,’ Simar challenged.

‘Maybe so,’ I answered.

‘I don’t see why you should go all cold now, after—‘

Here I grabbed his arm and steered him out of the room. I chose a spot in the courtyard where we could clearly be seen from the ballroom but were less likely to be overheard. ‘Are you mad?’ I demanded. ‘Talking like that in front of everyone.’

‘Maybe I am mad,’ Simar pouted. ‘Because I can’t stop thinking about—‘

I stepped forward and covered his mouth with my hand. ‘Don’t.’

There was a moment of struggle—he tried to speak behind my hand, but I wouldn’t let him go. Finally he broke free and glared at me. ‘What’s the matter with you? You can’t tell me you didn’t like that kiss. I’m not stupid, Peridan.’

‘Whether I liked it or not is beside the point,’ I replied. ‘We were foolish.’

‘Why foolish?’ he demanded, and with such an infuriating pout that I did rather want to kiss him again. I balled my hands at my sides. I also rather wanted to hit him.

‘Because you know now what they do to boys and men like us. Because we got caught.’

He shrugged brusquely. ‘I don’t care. I want you.’ He stepped toward me, but I backed away.

‘Well I do care.’ I swallowed and turned away. I could feel the whip searing into my skin.

‘Peridan, please. Nobody needs to know,’ he begged.

‘Yet somehow they find out,’ I answered in a whisper. I never asked Simar what his punishment was when we were found. I never told him mine. But either he really was mad or we had two very different experiences.

‘I don’t even care that you’re half-caste, with your Calormene uncle,’ Simar said in an attempt to sound generous. ‘I think it makes you...beautiful.’

I turned from him and rushed inside, pushing my way on to the dance floor. I had to find a girl to dance with. Dimly, out of the corner of my eye I saw a solitary figure who had just moved away from her partner, and I pressed toward her without thinking. I was most of the way across the floor when she looked up and I realised it was Queen Susan. She had just left off dancing with the High King. I stopped dead in my tracks, but it was too late. She had seen me, and so had half the assembled guests. It was either slink away in humiliation or play a very bold card. I bit the inside of my lip and finished crossing to her, a bit more decorously now. I made a low bow and extended my hand.

‘If I may be so very bold as to ask your gracious Majesty for a dance,’ I said, using my best court manners. 

For a moment she stared at me with round eyes. The High King turned as well, and of course half the room was still watching me. She hesitated. I swallowed. I dared to look into the Queen’s face, trying to find some indication of her answer, hoping she would treat me kindly. 

Something in my face decided her, and the long moment ended when she murmured in her soft voice, ‘I would be most honoured, my Lord,’ she answered, and she slipped her hand into my outstretched one.

The sound seemed to rush back into the room like the wind. The musicians started the song and other people found partners and led them to the middle of the floor. The queen and I took our places and started to dance. She was light on her feet and followed my lead with ease and a musical grace.

‘Your Majesty dances as though you had learned the steps in your childhood,’ I said, because it was strange to dance in silence.

She laughed. ‘You are very complimentary, Lord Peridan,’ she replied.

‘You remembered my name—your Majesty,’ I said, tacking on her title at the end in my surprise.

‘You made an impression on us,’ she replied with a gracious smile. 

‘A good one, I hope,’ I pasted on a smile, hoping she would not see how stiff it was.

‘Good is perhaps not the word I would use,’ she said slowly, considering her words. ‘I would sooner say you inspired me to compassion. I cannot imagine why a boy my brother’s age would be a lord in his own right, with no parents to guide him. I know what it is to find your way in the world at all too young an age.’

Her eyes were beautifully soft. I wanted to tell her all my troubles because I felt she would soothe me.

‘Your Majesty’s kindness means all the world to me,’ I said, and I meant it despite the formality. The song drew to a close and I bowed over her hand but did not dare to kiss it. 

Another song started up, a faster, whirling dance. She leaned toward me and whispered, ‘My good lord, please ask me to dance.’

I blinked in surprise; her expression was quite urgent. Over her shoulder I saw the cause—several of the noble men, some of them twice the Queen’s age or more, were leering at her, ready to try their own luck in the wake of my success. I stammered an invitation, and she accepted at once this time. Soon we were whirling across the floor in a very fast dance which left no breath for talking but filled us with exhilaration. 

The music ended and we slowed to a halt. Her expression was still so warm and open that I was on the point of asking her to dance yet again when we both turned at the sound of a slight cough. King Edmund stood there. ‘I’m supposed to ask you to dance now, according to Peter. Something about not showing too much favour to one lord.’ Here he fixed me with such a cool look I felt my smile falter.

I bowed. ‘Of course. I would not dream of monopolising your evening.’ But I saw that Queen Susan rather wished I would.

The ball broke up around midnight, and all the noble families trickled back to their retiring houses, the little flats they kept for when business or politics kept them on Doorn. Everyone walked; Narrowhaven was so compact it rendered carriages unnecessary.

Aurie skipped alongside us, excited by the party and all the sugar, and being up late with all the rest of the Island court. ‘You were brilliant! You’re such a good dancer,’ she breathed in admiration. ‘I wish I could dance so well.’

I shrugged. ‘Then you must attend to your dancing lessons,’ I said. 

‘And strive not to be as brazen and conceited as your brother,’ Uncle Emdir added. I blew some air out of my cheeks.

He grabbed my arm to stop me walking, and his fingers were like pincers. ‘Did you wish to bring shame on our house? We are now a laughingstock because of your antics.’

I shook myself free and scowled at him. ‘The Queen seemed happy enough to dance with me.’

‘That is because she must. Likely you annoyed her,’ Uncle said in a voice that was clipped with irritation and condescension.

I kicked at a rock in the street, but then I stopped and turned to face him. ‘No. She danced with me twice. The only other people she did that with were the kings.’ I stared into his dark, wizened face.

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Aurie, go inside.’

Aurie was still skipping around, oblivious to our conversation. ‘What? Why?’

‘Go,’ Uncle repeated in that hissing voice which neither of us dared disobey, even if for Aurie it never carried any consequences. Aurie went in. Uncle turned to me once more. Our house was on a quiet street, and we were alone. He gripped my arm, his face twisting, and then he backhanded me across the face. His many rings gave the blow extra weight. I cried out in surprise.

‘That is for your cheek,’ He declared, before following it up with another blow. ‘And that is for your conceit. Every lord in that room was laughing at you. And you think you can fool me. I saw you with that boy.’

I touched my cheek and looked up at him. Tears stung my eyes, but I held them back. I scowled and tried to twist my arm free, but he held on tight and drew closer.

‘We have not even begun, boy. I thought I had taught you the lesson well enough the first time, but I see that isn’t true. Give me your belt.’

‘What? No!’ I cried, somewhere in between incredulity and fear. I tried to pull away again, but Uncle Emdir twisted my arm now. It was a clever move, one that didn’t require a lot of strength but made pain shoot up and down my arm. Although I was technically stronger, I was helpless to him now.

‘Either you will give it to me, or I will take it off you and it will be worse. What would your mother say to know she has a degenerate for a son? You disgust me.’

‘Let me go!’ I cried. ‘Let me go!’

‘Shut up!’ He clipped my ear with his free hand, and his ring crashed into the side of my head making me see stars. I couldn’t help it—a sob escaped my lips. ‘You can’t even take a beating like a man.’ He pulled a switch off an olive tree and whacked me across the back with it, as though to test its strength. My second yelp seemed to satisfy him, and he dragged me towards the courtyard of our house. I dug my heels in and tried to pull back. I knew it would be worse for me once we got off the street.

‘What is happening here?’ A voice cut through the darkness. Orran’s voice. Uncle Emdir released my arm and dropped the branch. I longed to run to Orran for protection, but I didn’t dare. I sank onto the stone wall beside us and massaged my sore arm. I concentrated on not bursting into tears.

‘This is not your concern, Orran,’ Uncle said, inhaling through his nose and drawing himself up.

‘I should think it is, if Caernan charged me to watch over his son,’ Orran answered, looking between us.

‘It is a family matter.’ Uncle Emdir’s nostrils flared, and I hunched over myself. I chanced a look into Orran’s face. He looked back at me and gave me the smallest of nods.

‘Go inside, Emdir,’ he said in his most lordly tone. ‘I shall take care of Peridan.’

Uncle Emdir glared at me, but he turned on his heel and stalked inside. The door banged shut behind him, and I jumped. My hands started to shake, and I covered my face.

Orran came and laid his hand on my shoulder. I flinched at his gentle touch. ‘What was he doing to you, Peridan?’

‘Never mind,’ I said.

‘Except I do mind,’ he answered, his voice low and soothing. ‘Because I have been charged to watch out for you.’

I looked up at him. My lip trembled and my face twisted. I pushed his hand off me. ‘Some job of it you’ve done! You told me to kiss Simar—why? Why did you do that? Look at what it’s done to me! Oh, but you can’t, because you can’t see the scars on my back.’ 

Orran frowned. ‘What scars?’

I let him peel back my cloak and pull my tunic away so he could see for himself in the dappled moonlight of the quiet street.

‘Your uncle did this,’ he said, rearranging my cloak over my shoulders. I looked away and said nothing. ‘He nearly flayed your back.’ Orran said. I folded my arms and traced the lines of the cobbles in the white street with my toe. That was easier than really letting myself remember.

‘It’s your fault,’ I told him, my voice breaking. ‘If you hadn’t told me, if you hadn’t suggested kissing a boy—what boy kisses another boy? He didn’t love me before but he tolerated me. Now...’. I wiped my cheeks with the heel of my hand. ‘Why did you do this to me?’

‘Peridan.’ He gripped the back of my neck. ‘I didn’t make you this way. It’s who you are. And it’s always better to know who you are.’

‘I don’t want to be who I am then!’ I cried as finally the dam broke and the sobs started to come. I hit out at him. ‘I don’t want to be myself! I don’t want to be me.’

Orran caught my arms and he folded me into an embrace. I howled into his tunic, all my rage and hate and pain and shame. He soothed me, stroking my hair until my tears dried up and I was left with the awful, exhausted blankness after a storm of tears.

‘I hope one day you may not find this such a curse,’ Orran said. ‘There may yet be moments of happiness for you. Even moments of happiness with other men. You may not always have to hide who you are. But come. The hour grows late, and we are in council tomorrow. You come back to my house for now.’

So Orran led me.


	3. Pay meet adoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I am outcast, I find some unexpected acceptance.

I sat in the square and listened to the crier announce the exhibition for the fifth time. Each time I wanted to check that I had heard something wrong, but each time the crier said the same thing. I rubbed my face, trying to think about what to do now that I was left out of the fighting exhibition. If I were with the junior fighters, I should have known.

I hadn’t quite believed Gormal and Rehan when they were talking about it the day before. They were trying to speculate who the pairs would be since the junior fighters would be partnered. Gormal taunted me for not knowing what he was talking about, but I had stopped really paying attention to him. 

The town crier, however, was another matter. If all the common folk were finding out about this fighting exhibition but no one had told me anything, the message was clear: I was not to take part.

‘Ha—there you are! Plotting your fight? We’ll have to get your armour polished.’ Orran stood before me and clapped me on the shoulder.

I raised my eyes slowly to his face. ‘They didn’t ask me,’ I said.

Orran did a double take which was almost comical. ‘What? They can’t do that!’

‘They have. I knew nothing about this,’ I said.

‘Lionshaim is one of the most important houses on the Islands—in Narnia, even. You are an excellent swordsman. You’re better than anyone your age, and even better than some full grown men. I won’t stand for this. I’m going up to the school...’

‘No, Orran, don’t.’ I jumped to my feet and grabbed his arm. ‘There’s no point. They don’t want me.’

‘It’s not a thing they can choose,’ Orran said.

‘They have. Lionshaim may be an important house but I am a small and unimportant person. And now I disgust them,’ I said.

‘Peridan, lad,’ Orran said, placing his hands on my shoulders.

I shrugged him off. ‘It doesn’t matter. Even if I competed, what would it get me?’

He gripped the back of my neck. ‘Come. Don’t be glum. Remember the motto: we shape our destiny. Nobles here have been saying that for a hundred years, since we huddled on boats as refugees from the Great Winter. Now it’s time for you to live by those words.’

‘What if I don’t know how?’ I said, frowning.

‘Then you figure out a way. You’re clever.’

He walked me back to the retiring house then, and I went inside. Uncle Emdir was sitting in the front room with his papers, and when he saw me he muttered ‘Stain on our house, see how we have been passed over.’ At the same time, Aurie jumped up from where she was reading and started peppering me with questions. ‘I’ve seen the lists. Why isn’t your name on them? Oughtn’t you be fighting in the exhibition? Did you ask the master?’

In the end, I went back to Avra. There was little point staying on Doorn. Uncle Emdir of course wanted to know why I was going back, so I told him the the Kings and Queens were touring the Avra estates and I needed to make sure that we were ready.

‘They will not come,’ Uncle Emdir answered. ‘Moreover,’ he said, ‘I will not welcome these barbarian usurpers into our house.’

‘Uncle!’ I gasped. ‘How can you say that?’

‘Do you question me?’ He crossed the distance between us in two stride and caught up my arm, his fingers digging into the flesh. 

‘No, I—but they’re not barbarians. That’s a Calormene thing to say!’

He put his face close to mine. ‘And what do you think I am? I was born in Tashbaan, the jewel of the world, in sight of the Tisroc’s mighty palace (may it stand forever and may he live forever in it). Do you think I am so changeable as to forget who I am? You would do well to remember that the same Calormene blood runs in your veins, thanks to my mad sister, the peace of Zardeenah on her soul.’ 

‘Why even come here then? Why didn’t you just stay in Calormen if you love it so much?’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Fool of a child, one day you will understand that some things are even more important than country. Meanwhile, we do not fete this emperor. He has had enough fawning.’ He let me go with a shake and stalked out of the room, his robes billowing behind him.

I went back to the estate to defy Uncle as much as to run away. I spent the next few days rattling round the house. I readied for visitors who probably wouldn’t come, ordering the orchards cleared of debris, the fruit harvested, gardens arranged, flowers cut. I commanded all the parlours open and the curtains drawn back, even in my mother’s little conservatory. I had my best receiving at home clothes laundered and pressed, and every day I dressed in one of the two outfits only to send it back downstairs for laundering and pressing each night. Neither Aurie nor Uncle returned. The servants started to whisper. I set them to new tasks of preparation every time I heard, but I also took to pacing—round the perimeter of the estate on Lodestar, round the house, round my room at night when I couldn’t sleep.

The day came when I knew the Kings and Queens would finish their tour of Avra. The housekeeper came to ask me gently if they should throw out the food. ‘At the end of the day,’ I told her, my eyes on the drive. ‘Share it amongst yourselves at sundown, but not until then.’ Then I went to lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Around lunchtime I heard the commotion through my open window. The servants were flapping and scurrying. I pushed myself off the bed and listened more closely, hardly daring to believe what this might mean. I went across the hall to my parents’ old room and peered out their window, which overlooked the cypress-lined drive. Four horses were trotting up the drive. I started to rush from the room, but I backpedaled to neaten my hair in the mirror. Then I tore downstairs. I stopped short of the doors and took a breath and squared my shoulders before nodding to the servants to open them. As I went down the steps to meet them, I tried to summon coolness and grace as master of the house.

The Kings and Queens alighted and I swept into a bow. ‘Lord Peridan,’ said Queen Susan warmly, ‘It is so lovely to see you again.’

‘The pleasure is mine, your Majesty,’ I said. I could not keep myself from blushing.

‘I wanted to be sure we came to see you, so that I might make you known to my brothers and sister.’ She turned then and made introductions and we all bowed to each other.

‘So this is the Lord who is our age,’ said King Edmund, squinting at me in the bright sunlight.

I couldn’t hold his gaze, so I gestured them inside. ‘I have had a lunch prepared for your Majesties, if you fancy it?’

‘You’re the first person to offer us lunch instead of a tour,’ King Edmund said.

‘I imagine you’ve seen every Narnian vase, painting, and tapestry on Avra by now,’ I commented before I could stop myself.

Before I had a chance to regret my wry words, King Edmund laughed. ‘That is only too true.’

I stooped to pick a bit of terra cotta from the ground. I held it out in my hand, imitating the wistful manner of the lords when they showed off their Narnian artefacts. ‘Look, your Majesty, if you will, on this piece of pottery. Our family brought a fine Narnian vase as they fled from the Witch. It broke in the crossing, and now we are only left with this tiny scrap to connect us to our lives in Narnia.’ I cradled the piece in my hands. Then I glanced up at King Edmund. ‘You should ignore the massive house behind me because we are actually poor refugees. Poor, poor refugees.’ I did not know what possessed me to such merriment.

King Edmund chuckled. ‘I’ll know your trick if you try the same thing on us.’ 

I led them to my mother’s conservatory. The dining room was far too dark and oppressive, and it was already a sticky day. I noticed as I showed them through that all the Kings and Queens had a sheen of sweat on their skin, locks of hair plastered to their temples. I whispered to a servant to lay out swimming clothes.

When they saw the spread they all gave a sigh of appreciation. ‘Now this is something like,’ said the High King as he sat himself down before a cold joint. ‘I’ve had enough of small plates.’

‘Always hungry,’ King Edmund said, shaking his head. 

‘Strawberries and cream!’ Sighed Queen Lucy happily.

Queen Susan gave me a warm look. ‘Thank you for thinking of us.’

‘I thought you might be a bit tired of Island dishes by now,’ I said. ‘And that you might like to see how Narnian we are still.’

King Edmund looked up from his plate. ‘Yes—you might enlighten us on that front, actually.’

I bowed my head to show my willingness.

‘I am trying to comprehend the Council of Lords,’ he said. ‘Its purpose, its goals.’

‘Ah,’ I said, and bit back a sharper comment.

‘Do go on, my lord,’ said King Edmund, his shrewd eyes glittering.

‘The goals are simple—sit around and be self important.’ My heart raced at such daring. I had never dared to speak against them before. ‘In their terms, the Council was established to govern ourselves during the Great Winter and wait to return at its end. All the noble families apart from the Governor’s came as refugees when the Great Winter began in Narnia. In truth though, I don’t think anyone is really waiting to return anymore. They built their lives here.’ All these great houses that you see on Avra are less than a hundred years old. Everyone still goes by their Narnian titles—Lionshaim, Ettinsmoor, Ravenscaur, but not one of us has ever laid eyes on the lands we claim as our ancestral right.’

I drew myself up and quoted as I had learned in school, ‘In Calormen to be a noble is to live a life of idleness and luxury, but in the Lone Islands, the Lords had to be more assiduous, and remake their former prosperity. So it is that even to this day, there are many proverbs and warnings in the Calormene style that guard against laziness and reliance on prosperity.’ I finished with an ironic smile, and King Edmund laughed again.

‘Do they talk of going back at all?’ The Emperor wondered.

‘There’s always talk,’ I said, ‘We toast each other with it on the New Year. If someone goes on a long trip we say “May we meet again in Narnia.” But although no one would want to give up their title, I don’t think they would want to give up their lives here either. It’s what they know.’

I could feel King Edmund watching me. ‘And what about you?’ He asked. I could only press my lips together and shrug because my head started to swim with the same wild thrill of possibility as I had when I first saw them.

‘I suppose we should be going,’ said Queen Lucy. ‘Though I am loathe to get back on a horse so soon. It’s so hot out.’

I took a breath and blurted out before I lost my daring, ‘Or you could have a swim.’

Queen Lucy brightened at this. ‘A swim? Where?’

‘We have a swimming fountain. My mother had it installed. I have had the servants set aside some bathing clothes in case you wished it,’ I said. I was speaking very fast and I could feel my ears going red. 

Before I could sink far down the hole of everyone laughing at my rejection, King Edmund broke into a smile. ‘You are the perfect host, Lord Peridan. Come on, everyone.’

‘It does sound like a lovely idea,’ admitted Queen Susan. ‘It is very stuffy.’

The High King hesitated. ‘Have we really time?’

‘Look, if even Susan thinks it’s a good idea, we know it’s a good idea,’ said King Edmund. He looked to me. ‘Show us where to change if you please, my lord.’

Within a quarter of an hour, we were all floating blissfully in the pool. I stayed on the benches at the edge of the pool while the monarchs swam more freely. For a few minutes they were silent, drifting through the water. 

The High King was floating on his back with his arms out and his eyes closed, letting the water take him where it would. Eventually he floated towards the trickling fountain. King Edmund noticed this and bobbed upright, his brows waggling. He glided toward his brother, waiting, and at just the right moment pushed him so that the High King of Narnia and the Emperor of the Lone Islands got a face full of water.

King Edmund and Queen Lucy shouted with laughter. Queen Susan chided ‘Edmund!’ But she too was laughing behind her hand. I stared, unable to believe these were the same monarchs who just took the history of the Lone Islands so seriously. King Peter rose from the water, dripping and spluttering, and he too cried ‘Edmund! I’ll get you for that!’ And he grabbed his brother and dunked him under the water. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Queen Lucy went over to King Edmund and murmured something in his ear. His eyes flashed and his mouth quirked into a mischievous smile before he ducked under the water and rose with Queen Lucy on his shoulders. She gave her best imitation of an evil laugh, which did not have a trace of evil in it, and pointed at her eldest brother.

Queen Susan seemed to understand what was happening, for she said. ‘No. Oh, Peter, don’t, it’s frightfully impro—‘ and she broke off with a shriek for the High King had done the same as his brother, and was now lifting Queen Susan out of the water on his shoulders. She laughed and clung on to him by the hair.

It was one of the loveliest things I had ever seen, such noble people so free and so happy. I retreated to the corner of the pool to watch, longing to be part of it but happy enough not to be excluded. Queen Lucy seemed to be more game; she bested Queen Susan several times despite King Peter’s urging and coaching. By the time both girls splashed back into the water, everyone was laughing and the rain started to fall in heavy drops.

King Edmund scrunched up his face as a drop landed square on his nose. ‘I suppose it’s a good thing we’re already wet.’

Thunder rumbled in the distance, growing louder until it seemed to shake the sky with a big clap. I leaned on the side of the pool and watched the landscape. ‘The storms are not like they used to be,’ I mused. ‘There haven’t been floods for a good couple years now.’ 

‘Floods?’ the High King repeated.

I nodded. ‘We don’t have the weather for snow, but we are little islands on the edge of an unknown sea. We faced a lot of dangerous storms and floods, in addition to the sicknesses. That all ended though—well, it ended when your Majesties defeated the White Witch.’ I looked at the four of them, standing waist deep in water with rain splashing on their hair and thought that they still looked noble and legendary. They looked at each other.

‘And Aslan,’ Queen Lucy put in.

‘And Aslan,’ I said, bowing my head. Uncle would say it was a change in the weather, that such a thing could not be attributed to the Lion. But then, I thought, he didn’t believe in the Lion. 

The morning came when the Splendour Hyaline was packed full of gifts from the Lone Islands and the people gathered to the quay once more to see the kings and queens sail off. Before he boarded the ship, the High King Peter stood on a platform to give a speech. He cut a fine picture on that bright morning, the sun glinting on his crown and his scarlet cloak fanning out behind him in the wind. The emperor cast his eye over us, the lords in their grandstand with their families behind, the people crowded together to press as close to him as they could. He looked over the city, its white buildings and tiled archways and blue roofs. 

‘Islanders—Narnians—we set sail today, but we all four of us leave a part of us behind in this most remote, most beautiful, most welcoming outpost of our realm. You have weathered much during the long winter, suffered as much as the Narnians in different ways. Yet your resilience proves that true Narnian blood runs in your veins, strong and true as steel. Here you have built a shining city on the horizon of the known world, and of that you should be proud. I know I am proud to call myself your emperor.’

He had to pause here, for the crowd broke into wild applause, cheering and tossing their hats in the air. I was swept up in it myself, swelling with pride to know I was part of a culture worthy of his admiration.

When the crowd quieted, he continued. ‘I know when we leave today that you will carry on as you have before—building a strong trade alliance with all the countries in these seas, filling these islands with beauty and poetry and music such as I have not seen before. I need not command you to carry these things on, for this is part of the world of your own making.

‘My charge to you is this: remember always that you are Islanders, but you are also Narnians. Remember to embody all it means to be a Narnian—to be brave and bold, to fight for what is good and right in this world. All the beauty and industry is as dust if it is not built on a foundation of hope and faith in Aslan. Remember that Narnia and Aslan stand behind you always, and that this is both a blessing and a responsibility to bear, for you must continue to be worthy of it. We will hold you all in our hearts as we sail for Cair Paravel, and my mind will go back to these sun drenched islands and to all of you for always. We will return, but until we do, think on us at Cair Paravel as well.’

The crowd broke into applause once more. It was a bold speech, for in his charge some could read a veiled criticism. Indeed, in the days after the emperor’s departure, some did complain that he had criticised us unfairly. But for my part, the speech made me long to be Narnian above everything else. People filtered away after the Kings and Queens boarded the ship, but I stayed, leaning against the wall of one of the harbour buildings. I wrapped my cloak around me as I watched the ship leave the dock and drift out of the harbour.


	4. To Rust Unburnished or Shine in Use

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I learn how to make my own fate.

In the weeks following their departure, people talked incessantly of the Kings and Queens. Everything came back round to them. In trade negotiations people speculated whether there would be more regulations and tariffs from King Edmund (or, most assumed incorrectly, his advisors). In discussions of deportment, education, fashion, people marvelled at the Kings and Queens, how green and fresh they seemed—though some called this naive. Some began to speculate on matches for the Emperor and Queen Susan. ‘An Island noble would be a good match,’ they said. ‘They would show unity by marrying one of us.’ They left Queen Lucy and King Edmund out of these conversations as they were still obviously children, but I thought this a bit unfair on Queen Susan. She was hardly older than me, and she had seemed so uncomfortable at the ball when everyone wanted to dance with her. Gormal of course bragged that he had already half won the Queen’s heart. But he had not even danced with her.

More than anything else, talk turned to the return to Narnia. Everything we did had been in the name of going back to Narnia one day—we sang Narnian songs at school and learned the geography of Narnia in lessons. Any object a family managed to preserve in the Flight became a sacred relic. If someone was going on a long, uncertain journey, we would say ‘May our paths cross in Narnia.’ At the start of the New Year, we would toast each other with ‘May we end this year on the shores of our homeland.’ 

Yet suddenly everyone had an objection. Daughters were about to get married and sons about to complete their education. Trading ships were due in at Narrowhaven and the profits had to be counted. And Narnia was wild, uncivilised. No one had seen a Talking Beast. How were you meant to behave around them?

The more I heard this talk, the more my heart burned. I was still the outcast, still barely tolerated at my seat in the Council of Lords, still friendless. I still had to avoid Simar, though sometimes, when I was all alone at night, I thought I didn’t really want to avoid him. Then I would burrow under the covers and cover my head with the pillow. Louder than any of this though were my father’s words echoing round in my head.

Around Christmastime every year, there was a solemn parade through the streets of Narrowhaven. A group of men would advance bearing black banners. The lion rampant was stitched onto them, but it was also in black and thus almost obscured. The person leading the parade would bang a bass drum slowly, and its thudding would echo through the streets. Then there was a chorister, always of a noble family, who would cry ‘Our homeland is covered in snow and ice!’ And all the followers (and some of the people on the sidelines) would chant ‘Woe! Woe is us!’

Then the chorister again: ‘We are exiles in these Islands, and our hearts turn toward a home we cannot return to.’ This was followed by more chants of ‘woe!’

This would continue until the group reached the main square where they would fan out round the fountain. A trumpet would sound a single, clear note and the chorister would chant ‘Oh, for the day the Witch is defeated! Oh to see the four thrones filled and the prophecy come true!’

And the others would reply, ‘By Aslan’s grace we will live to see that day.’

My father took me to this parade every year. As a small child, I hated it. It was slow and everyone was somber, and he always discouraged me from asking questions. He would watch in silence, his eyes burning with some unnamed hope, and would only join in on the last line. He whispered the words, his eyes fixed on the black pennant.

The last year he took me, he must have realised he had the start of the sickness. Looking back, I can see his eyes were more sunken, his skin taking on a new pallor. Or perhaps there were none of those things and I only imagined because I knew what happened in the months that followed. At the end of the parade he turned to me and took me by the shoulders. ‘Peridan, remember this. We belong to something greater than these Islands, where we live in comfort, making deals from petty trade. We are of a line of knights errant, born to do noble deeds. I may not live to have that chance, but you must remember that always.’

I was only a boy then, so I squinted up at him. ‘What do you mean by noble deeds?’

‘I mean taking care of the weak and the helpless. Giving yourself in service to a greater cause. Laying your life down for your King. You have been trained from infant hood, almost. Remember that those skills are not ceremonial, they are to do great things. Peridan—promise me you will do this.’

I didn’t understand how I might ever have the chance to do anything he was talking about. Nothing like that ever happened on the Islands; it was a very prosaic place. But his green eyes, the ones I inherited, burned like lanterns in a dark room and he wrung my promise from me.

Finally I made my decision. I found myself looking down the long table in our lamp lit dining room at my Uncle once more. I took a breath and announced, ‘I have decided that I am going to go to Narnia.’

Aurie dropped her fork and looked at me with round eyes. Uncle ‘hm’d’ and shook his head.

‘Impossible. Our business interests here are too intricate. And I will not live in the wild barbarian north. We stay.’

‘You stay then. I’m still going,’ I said. I realised that I had never envisioned Uncle coming, and I didn’t want him to.

‘A child’s fancy. How are you even going to get there?’

‘I have money. My parents were not paupers,’ I declared. 

‘You have money because I made you money. I have been trading and looking after their affairs since before you were born. Do you think your dreamer of a father had enough sense to attend to his business?’

‘Then I will take what little money I have directly from them. I don’t care,’ I said. 

Uncle Emdir folded his arms. ‘Aurie, leave the table.’ She opened her mouth in protest, but he put up his hand to silence her. ‘No. I am already dealing with one wayward child. I will not have two. Go to your room, like a good girl, and I shall send up some sweets.’ Aurie hung her head but obeyed. I pursed my mouth. I was not feeling half so pliable.

Once Aurie was gone, he turned back to me. ‘Listen to me, boy. I have a duty to fulfil. You and your sister are my only surviving family—and she and I are all you have left in the world. We do not choose family, but they are of our blood nonetheless. The poets say “natural affection is more precious than soup”.’

‘You’ve never had any natural affection for me.’ I accused him with a frown.

He looked at me steadily. ‘Haven’t I, son of my sister? If I hadn’t, I would have let them throw you in prison rather than try to correct you. I would have left you to fend for yourself when you were orphaned at eleven. But I stayed on to help you make your way.’ He rose from his chair and leaned over the table, toward me. ‘I stayed. I asked nothing. I let them call you “your lordship” while I did all the work. I even paid for your ridiculous art lessons because you wanted them so much. I did this because you are one of my blood and always will be. We are tied to each other forever, whether we like it or not.’

My throat tightened. Uncle had a reputation as a powerful negotiator, and here his words struck a chord of sympathy within me. For a moment, I let him turn the tables and saw all his frustration and sacrifice. But then I remembered the heat of his anger, how the whites of his eyes had shone as he raised the whip again and again. I rose too and leaned over the table.

‘Then those ties will have to stretch across the Bight of Calormen. I go to Narnia.’

‘You stay here. I will not here another word of this nonsense, son of my sister. You will learn to negotiate and trade so as to ensure your family’s fortune. That is my final word.’ He sat back down and exhaled through his nose. I threw my napkin down and stormed up to my room. There I flung myself into the window seat and hugged my knees to my chest as I stared out at ht lemon trees.

I woke the next morning to a flat grey sky above dull, slate coloured water. I strode downstairs, took my breakfast in the kitchen, and commanded Lodestar saddled. Once we had burst out of the gates, though, I slowed him to a walk, unsure where to go. I was going in the direction of Orran’s, so I made my way there, but his wife appeared at the door and sighed at the sight of me. ‘Enough, Peridan,’ she said. ‘He is breakfasting with his family. We don’t need interruptions.’ And she shut the door.

I walked Lodestar along the winding beach paths near Orran’s house, trying to come up with some sort of plan, but I couldn’t seem to get my mind started. I sat on the beach and chucked rocks into the water. After awhile, I encountered another figure riding towards me. It was Orran. As soon as I recognised him I leapt up and sprinted to him.

‘I have to go to Narnia,’ I blurted without even so much as a greeting, ‘I can’t stay here. Everyone hates me and I’ll never find my footing. I didn’t even think there was another choice until they came. And they spent the afternoon with me and they were so kind. For a moment, I knew what it might be like to have friends. I know it’s crazy. I couldn’t be friends with the Kings and Queens, but I felt…I felt…’. I broke off, not quite knowing what to say next.

Orran gripped my shoulder. ‘I know, lad. I know.’ He gazed at me for a long while. ‘I’ve known this was coming, even if I didn’t want to believe it.’

Then he mounted his horse and indicated I should follow. We rode to the ferry docks and across the strait. Once on Doorn, he led me up to the Governor’s Palace.

‘No one will receive me,’ I tried to protest, but Orran held up a hand.

‘The Lord of Lionshaim wishes to see the ancestral records,’ he announced to the porter.

The porter bowed deeply. ‘Of course, my Lord Beruna,’ he intoned, and let us in.

Orran walked so swiftly through the familiar halls I was trotting to keep step with him. We passed the galleries with the Song of King Gale which I had stared at so often as a child and arrived at the door of the Archives. The Record Keeper admitted us at once and bade us sit while he went to get the maps. 

I looked around at all the shelves of books and the maps and paintings on the walls. I squinted to see a leather bound volume of The Life and Letters of Silenus, and another entitled Nymphs and Their Ways. ‘I was supposed to come here on a school trip to research ancestral lands,’ I mused. ‘I never got to go because I had already been kicked out.’ I pursed my lips, tracing the grain of the wood on the polished table. ‘A shame,’ I added, trying to sound as if this was only a trifling inconvenience. ‘This place is fascinating.’ 

‘There is more to this than academic interest,’ Orran said.

The Record Keeper bustled back in and made quite a business of unrolling the scroll and placing the markers with Lionshaim’s dragon couchant on it. When he was done with this ceremony, I leaned forward to peer at the holdings which were supposedly mind. I drew in a sharp breath. ‘All of this? So close to Cair Paravel?’

Orran smiled a bit. ‘You didn’t realise that “Rest within the cheer and comfort of mine eye” was literal, did you?’

I shook my head slowly, tracing the lines of all the other holdings. Lionshaim was by far the most generous. The sight of it made me dizzy. To steady myself, I tried to rub out a spot on the map.

‘Ah,’ said the Record Keeper, ‘My deepest apologies, my Lord. The students were here not long ago, and someone tried to deface the maps. We did stop him, but he made that mark.’

‘Bet you anything it was Gormal,’ I muttered to Orran.

‘But he couldn’t do anything in the end,’ Orran replied.

I continued to stare at the map. ‘I must go to Narnia. I might have a chance there.’

Six months after the kings and queens had visited the Lone Islands, I turned fifteen. On that morning, Orran turned up after breakfast and told me, ‘Get your cloak. We are going to Narrowhaven.’

This was an intriguing prospect, so I did not hesitate. When I returned to the hall, Uncle and Orran appeared to be having a silent face off. I looked between them, but if they had been speaking neither betrayed anything of their conversation. Orran stretched out a hand to me, and I went with him. As we reached the door I heard Uncle’s sniff and I looked at him over my shoulder. He looked to me very solitary in that shadowy hallway. I blinked as I stepped into the bright morning.

In Narrowhaven, Orran led me not to an inn or to one of our retiring houses, but to the port. I looked at him. ‘What business do we have here?’ He didn’t answer, but nodded me to look at the ships.

On cue, one of the smaller vessels unfurled her sails, and I saw my own crest upon them—blue sails with the dragon couchant. I turned back to Orran, my brow furrowed in confusion.

He smiled. ‘How do you like your birthday present, then?’

‘My birthday present? You got me a ship for my birthday?’

‘Well, more accurately, arranged a ship. You’ve paid for most of it. I’ve freed up your money from your uncle’s investments. Today we find your shipmates. In a month, I should think, you shall out oars for Narnia.’

I stared at that ship and a shiver ran through me to my toes. ‘I can’t believe it,’ I whispered.

‘Well, you should start, because there are a lot of preparations to make, starting with who is going with you.’ Orran’s words were prosaic, but his voice choked a bit, and when I looked at him, his brow was tight and his eyes just that bit glassier in the morning sun.

The rest of the morning was filled up with errands. Orran had been on a sea voyage before and prepared his own ships for countless others, so he knew the preparations which had to be made. We ordered provisions from merchants and I got the chance to go on board and see the boat for myself. She was no great galleon, but her lines were clean and her colours bright. She smelled of fresh wood, which was a free, wild scent to me. The Lone Islands did not see many trees except orange and lemon and olive. The ship was oak, they told me, and Narnian oak at that.

As we came from putting in orders with merchants for goods to trade once I got to Narnia, Orran declared that we also had to choose my shipmates. 

He had put out advertisements, and there was a queue of people waiting. They had to pass the captain’s muster first, and then they came and talked to me. Orran helped me question them, and he guided me in choosing. Most of them, save one or two adventurous spirits, were looking to flee some pain or shame or sorrow. Among those I elected were a man who lost his entire family in the last bout of sickness before the kings and queens saved Narnia, and a lovelorn fisherman’s son bent on making something of himself so he could return one day and marry the girl of his dreams, a merchant’s daughter. There was also a woman of steely resolve with a small child who was bent on leaving a husband who beat her. A couple were impoverished sons of poor fathers wanting to make a better life and take their chances on new shores. When we had nearly finished, Orran glanced over the list.

‘You certainly seem to favour the broken and the beaten,’ he commented.

I shrugged. ‘They need a new start,’ I said. ‘I’m not so different from them.’

He laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘You think like a kind and wise leader,’ he said, and I blushed under this praise.

The secretary who was organising everything opened the door then and said, ‘Your lordships? There is one last applicant.’

Orran looked at me, and I realised it was my command to give. ‘Send him in,’ I said.

A moment later Simar crossed the threshold.

It took me a moment to find my voice. At last I said, ‘You know what this is about?’

He nodded rapidly. ‘To go to Narnia. With you.’

I swallowed. ‘Orran—I would speak with him alone.’

Orran’s chair scraped and he made me a bow before he left the room, closing the door behind him. I watched him go, and then turned back to Simar.

We stared at each other, and when at last I opened my mouth to speak he held up his hand and took a step forward. ‘Wait. Before you say anything, listen. We can go together. It will be safe.’

‘It won’t be safe! We’ll be on a ship full of people,’ I hissed. ‘And everyone here will think we ran away together.’

He crossed the distance between us and took my hand. ‘That doesn’t matter, because we will never come back. They can whisper whatever they like if we never hear it.’

‘What about Aurie? What about your family? You’re heir to a lordship,’ I said. My breath kept catching in my throat.

‘I don’t care. Peridan—I go mad sometimes, thinking of that kiss. I think what we might have done, if they hadn’t pulled us apart and I—‘ he broke off here to press a kiss to my lips.

I closed my eyes for a moment, but then I broke away. ‘No. You can’t come. I need to be free of it all. I need to start fresh, and be my own man.’

‘Peridan, please!’ He cried. ‘If I stay here I will die. They are already preparing my betrothal, and I can’t. I can’t.’

I covered my face with my hands. ‘Simar—I can’t do this to you. You speak like you’re in love with me, but I—I’m not in love with you.’

‘How do you know if you won’t let yourself?’’ He pouted. He was oddly attractive, with his sandy, wind blown hair, and the smattering of freckles across his nose.

I shook my head. ‘Because if I loved you, I wouldn’t have to let myself. I just would.’

‘You’re a tease. A cruel tease,’ he said, jabbing my chest with his finger and putting his scowling face in mine. ‘I curse you to a life of misery.’

‘I am already cursed,’ I said. I turned away from him and sat back down at the table, looking over the papers. I did not look up until he stormed out of the room.

We went back to Orran’s retiring house that evening and sat on the terrace overlooking the port and the sea. I could see the warm, twinkling lights of the houses and the colder, more majestic lights of the stars overhead. All of this was surrounded by the velvet of the sea and the sky. I sipped wine, enjoying feeling adult instead of the gnawing weight of worry which had started to creep in. To distract myself further I said, ‘Tell me about my parents again.’

Orran sighed, and I could hear him shift in his seat in the darkness. After a long pause during which I thought he must not have heard, he began in the Calormene style we were all taught as children. ‘When your father saw your mother walking the streets of Narrowhaven with her brother, she was fresh off the boat from Calormen. She still wore Calormene dress, and the tinkling of her golden ornaments and the perfume of her hair and the bright hope in her face bewitched all who saw her. And Caernan looked at me and said “I think at last I shall get married.” ‘

He took a sip of wine, then shook his head and put the glass down with a decisive clunk. ‘That is not the story I want to tell you tonight. Tonight I am thinking much of him, for you look more like him every day, and my heart aches with gladness to see it. Your father lived another love story, and although it existed only in whispers and among shadows, that did not make the love any less true.’

I stared at him. ‘You don’t mean...you and my father?’

He looked back at me with steady eyes. ‘I do. Why do you think I encouraged you to kiss that boy? How do you think I knew about you in the first place, when you barely knew yourself?’

‘But the story of the islands is how he loved my mother enough to break all tradition and marry her. How could he...?’ I looked at Orran, searching for a way to understand.

He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and dangling his cup between his legs. ‘This is the story you need to know, without embellishments, only truth. Your father and I knew each other all our lives—as you know every boy your age on Avra. I can’t say which of us fell for the other first. I can’t even really recall our first kiss. But once we kissed, we were bound together, he and I. We would go everywhere together by day and sneak away together by night. We thought about travelling to Archenland together, but by the time we had formed half a plan, my family was arranging my marriage. To break faith with them was to expose ourselves, and we realised we might not even be able to escape in time if we did that.

‘So I did what many other men do. I hid who I was. You seem surprised that I could be married and still be what I am, but that is how I had to survive. A leopard cannot change its spots, but a chameleon can blend in. Men like you and I, we must find ways to be chameleons. I hope for your sake you do not have to do what I did. But that was my path.

‘Your father was heartbroken. He could barely stand as the bridegroom’s page at the wedding. For awhile it seemed as though we would part ways, because I was chained to my wife, and he was filled with such jealousy. But we found our way back to each other. He refused all attempts at marriage, and since his parents were dead, he had the freedom to do so. But everyone whispered what a shame it was that the line of Lionshaim would die with him. Then he met your mother, and the story is true—he did love her, as much as it pains me to say it. So long as their marriage lasted, all I could do was love him from afar and be his friend. And after, to comfort him in his grief and promise to take care of his children when he fell ill.’

I stared out over the bay, so soft and secret in the starlight. ‘It’s such a sad story,’ I mused. ‘How can you bear it?’

‘Summed up like that, it is sad. But in between all the heartaches there were many, many good moments. Laughter, happiness, warmth. I am better for having loved him. My life was brighter because he loved me. That is what I want you to remember, Peridan. Before you swear off all of it because of the danger, remember that sometimes we have to dare to be happy.’

I turned this over in my head. I couldn’t imagine being so brave. But Orran’s story filled me with a yearning. I wanted to be bound to someone like that. I leaned forward and rested my arms on the railing, laying my cheek on them and watching the quiet sea refracting the moonlight. I wondered if somewhere in some time I might find something so beautiful as what Orran and my father had.

The day for the sailing of my ship arrived. After Orran and I returned and announced the arrangements, Uncle said nothing further. In the intervening weeks he did not speak to me at all, or called me ‘Your lordship’ in a voice dripping with condescension. I went down to say goodbye to him. He stood in front of the house with his hands folded into the sleeves of his robe. He always reminded me of a date—dark and wizened, with deep grooves carved out in his cheeks above his thin beard. He unfurled his long fingered hand from his cobalt coloured robes and laid it on my shoulder. ‘Farewell, son of my sister. The poets have said “the winds of travel blow a new spirit into a man.” May it be so with you.’

I made him a little bow but said nothing. I turned to mount Lodestar, who was tossing his head and flicking his tail. I had put a foot in the stirrup and was about to swing into the saddle when a sharp cry stopped me.

Aurie barrelled into me and hugged me round the middle. ‘Don’t go,’ she begged. ‘You’re my only brother.’

‘I must,’ I said. 

‘You can just stay and be a trader like you were supposed to! You don’t have to be a paladin,’ she protested.

My only answer was a kiss on the top of her head and a fierce hug. When I could speak I said, ‘I will send for you. One day, when I have made my name.’

I mounted Lodestar then. I took one last look at the house I had known all my life, at my only surviving family, and then I turned and trotted away.

Orran was waiting on the docks. We stood together and watched the last of the goods being loaded and the last of the passengers climbing the gangway. I drew in a sharp breath. I was on the cusp of an adventure. I turned to Orran to share the thrill, but when I looked into his face I exclaimed, ‘Orran! You’re never crying!’

‘Of course I’m crying,’ he said, his voice choking. ‘Saying goodbye to you is saying goodbye to the last thread that tied me to Caernan.’

‘What about Aurie?’

He shook his head. ‘I will always watch out for her, but she doesn’t need me. Not the way you did.’

‘I do still need you,’ I said.

‘Be that as it may, you will have to forge your own path now, Peridan. Remember that in your blood runs bravery and nobility and adventure.’ He pulled a sword in a decorated scabbard from the folds of his cloak. ‘It is time I returned this to you.’

I traced my fingers over the golden dragon with sapphire eyes twisting its way round the scabbard. ’The sword of Lionshaim.’

‘The sword of your house, bestowed on your ancestor by King Gale himself,’ he said. ‘It should shine in use, not rust unfurnished, and you will likely make use of it more than any lord here has ever made use of his. Let it remind you of who you are. Don’t forget—and don’t try to hide.’ He looked straight into my eyes, searching them.

Tears started to prick my eyes too. ‘Thank you. For everything.’

He ruffled my hair. ‘A son doesn’t thank his father.’

I threw my arms around him and buried my face against his shoulder. Then I straightened up and squared my shoulders. Orran gave me a gentle push up the gangway.

I stood in the stern waving to Orran. Then there was a lurch as the boat pushed off, and I felt the excitement in me rise so high it nearly choked me. ‘To Narnia and the north!’ I cried because I was so caught up in the moment. Everyone on board with me cheered.


	5. Something More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I arrive in Narnia to reclaim my ancestral lands.

‘Land in sight!’ The man in the fighting top bellowed.

I made to rush to the bows, but everyone else had the same idea and I couldn’t get to the railing. So I scrabbled up to the fighting top. There on the horizon was a hazy strip of purple which marked the beginning of Narnia. The watchman passed me his spyglass, and through it I could just make out the shape of Cair Paravel.

All the next day I was in a fever of impatience. I couldn’t set my mind to anything but our imminent arrival; nor, it seemed, could anyone else. The ship was full of chatter, and I smiled to hear the plans people were already making. That evening during the celebration on deck someone pressed a flagon of ale into my hand and said, ‘And you, my lord! What will you do when we get to Narnia?’

I smiled bashfully and took a long drink to stall for time. In reality, my mind started to tick over with a thousand errands: get myself some lodging, find a place where I could eat, hire servants, sort my accounts, ready the ship to be sent out on further trade—and, most importantly of all, get the royal warrant to reclaim my lands. I had only the vaguest ideas of how I would accomplish any of these tasks, and thinking about them all made me dizzy. But I did not want to dampen the high excitement, so I said, ‘I will set about becoming a paladin.’

They cheered and toasted me and wished me good fortune. I proposed we toast everyone’s plans for good luck. By the end of the round we were very merry, and I felt a glow of comradeship I had never known before. So to round things out, I lifted my glass and proclaimed the old Island toast with a grin, ‘May we meet again on the shores of Narnia!’ Everyone roared with laughter.

All the next day I was in a fever of impatience. I hung over the bows willing the boat to move faster, squinting at the shoreline to see if the outlines of Narnia were getting any sharper. I daydreamed of how I might paint the coastline, what colours I would mix, what sort of paints I would use. The Lone Islands were a beautiful, sun soaked place full of sharp colours. The light of Narnia was less garish and direct; the colour had more depth and shade, and I puzzled over them.

Everyone in the Islands called art a waste of time for a high born boy. I should have set my mind to nobler or more profitable pursuits. Therefore when I showed a passion for drawing, Uncle summarily cancelled my lessons and took away all the supplies I had carefully amassed and confiscated anything I had drawn or painted that I could not hide from him. I am sure those first ham-fisted attempts at art were awful, but losing all my work pained me. Yet another way I was awkward and ill fitting to my role.

Even so, I had persisted. I had drawn and painted in secret, because I could not stop myself, because if I didn’t do it in secret I would slip and doodle in public. Sometimes when I needed to melt away from the world I would step back and turn it into a work of art. Not even Orran knew. I couldn’t have borne it if he told me to stop as well.

The sun was setting as we approached the coast. To the left I could see the port town of Lionshaim, the burgeoning town which came under my dominion. I followed the coastline north to Cair Paravel, the storied castle of the four thrones where the High King Peter and his consorts kept their court. The eastern sky was already tinged with the turquoises and purples of evening, but the setting sun lit up every window of the castle so that it seemed to be a star on the sea. I hung over the railings and soaked up the beauty of it. Even after the sun set, the windows were alight, warm and homely. My fingers itched to paint it. 

I sat up and looked around. Others were on deck admiring Cair Paravel, but no one was paying me much mind. I ran below and came back clutching my sketchbook and box of colours. I had little opportunity to buy things, so my supplies were scant: a few stubby ends of charcoals, some pencils better suited to writing than drawing, and some pans of paint where the pigments only clung to the corners. I sat myself down, and with shaking hands, slid open the lid of the box, selected a pencil, and began to sketch. At first I glanced around furtively, but no one seemed to care. I sank into concentration as I tried to capture the colours of an ever changing sky, the glowing light in the castle windows.

I was so absorbed in painting that I heard the heavy footfalls sounding hollow on the deck, but I didn’t really absorb them. I did not look up until I heard someone clearing their throat. 

The captain stood there. I would have scrabbled to put away the painting, but it was too late. I could only look at him, and wait for the reprimand. 

He gave a little bow. ‘My lord, we disembark tomorrow.’

‘Yes, I know,’ I said.

‘The people’ll be wanting a word from you.’

‘A word...from me?’ I faltered.

‘You’re their lord and their leader. They followed you here. It’s only fitting,’ he answered.

‘Oh. Yes. You’re right.’ I bit my lip and looked at my water cup with paint curling in it. ‘I’ll say something before we disembark.’

He bowed in acknowledgement of this and turned to go back to his post. I listened to the thud of his retreating footfalls pounding like a bass drum. I looked down at my sketch, wondering what I might say. Then I glanced up at the castle. They did this all the time, those four, and they were youths as well.

The next morning, after some considerable bustle of preparation, everyone crowded on deck and they lowered the gangway. The captain stood in front of it, and he nodded to me.

I swallowed and opened my mouth. Everyone seemed to loom over me, and so the words stuck in my throat. The mate indicated a box, and I stood on it so I was looking over the group of hopeful faces. Every eye was trained on me. I cleared my throat.

‘Today—‘I began, and my voice cracked. I winced and shook my head. I nearly stepped down, but their faces were too expectant. I had to see it through. I took a breath and began again.

‘Today we return to Narnia. This was the hope of my forebears, that one day their descendants would return to the country they once loved. But this is more than just a promise fulfilled. Today, we step off this ship onto the shores of Narnia to forge our own paths. We left much behind, but we brought with us the Island motto: “We shape our destiny.” So may we in Narnia. May Aslan guide us in this venture, and may we all prosper in this Narnia remade.’

I stepped down, and everyone started cheering, which made me blush. I led the party down the gangway and looked round as I set my feet on Narnian soil for the first time. The first time in over a hundred years that any member of the House of Lionshaim set foot on Narnian soil. The air seemed different already. Part of that was down to the newness of all the buildings. Uncle often sniffed at the architecture of the great houses on Avra, calling the buildings the whims of yesterday and quoting maxims like ‘the strongest foundation is the test of time’ so I had come to think that those houses were flimsy and new. That morning in Lionshaim I realised that a house which has stood for eighty or ninety years could be considered a venerable edifice compared with the new port buildings which seemed to have just been thrown up. On some the timber was so fresh the scent of wood filled the air. On others, the paint was so bright it had clearly never faced any weathering. There were no cobbles on the streets, let alone paving stones, and the ground was much churned and muddy. There was nothing of great beauty there yet, but it was a place full of industry and optimism. A place where a man might make his mark.

After securing food and lodgings, my first task was to set about getting my lands restored to me. I soon discovered that King Edmund and Queen Lucy heard petitions on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and as the following morning was Tuesday, this seemed like my best chance.

I arose early the next day, before dawn, and I watched the sun rise from Lodestar’s back. He was swift that morning, eager to gallop after a long month cooped up on a ship, and I was happy to let the fresh wind whip through my hair and feel my cloak streaming behind me like a banner. 

Soon—too soon—the gates of Cair Paravel soon loomed above me. I had seen the style of carvings imitated ten times over in the houses of Avra, but not to a tenth of the effect. I stared up at them, and I almost turned away. If I never asked, I could never be refused. 

But all the people who traveled with me counted on the success of this venture. I couldn’t leave them to chance, so I squared my shoulders and rode through the gates.

And then I saw the queue. It snaked through the courtyard with all manner of creatures in it. A guard asked my business, and when I said I had come to petition, he gave me a rueful look and offered to stable my horse for me. And I waited. I refined my humble speech. I checked and rechecked all my documents. The queue inched forward. I hadn’t even made it to the steps when the midday chimes sounded and a guard stood at the top of the steps and bawled out that petitions had ended for the day.

People began to stream away but I loitered in the courtyard, biting on my lip. I couldn’t turn and leave. I had nowhere to go. I owed some people land as payment for their work on the voyage, and although my ship would go out trading, I was in effect homeless. I had to get my lands, and to do so I had to see the Kings and Queens.

A sharp click-clacking caught my attention, and I looked up to see a faun coming down the steps of the castle. I knew it was a faun because I had seen pictures of them on all the vases and tapestries brought from Narnia. Seeing a faun in a painting and seeing a faun in real life are two very different prospects though. I gasped with surprise, then worked to hide it. Then I wanted to look at him more closely. The hair on his legs was such a glossy black that it shone in the sun, and the way his hair curled reminded me a bit of Orran—except for the fact that he had two pert little horns sticking out of his forehead.

He must have noticed me looking and trying not to look, for he came trotting up to me. ‘I am sorry, young sir,’ he said, ‘But petitions have ended for the day.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I heard the announcement.’

He studied me a moment more. ‘You look like someone who has something weighing on your mind.’

I nodded, then took a gamble because I had nothing to lose. ‘I really need to speak with the Kings and Queens. Everything depends on it.’

‘Everything?’ The faun said. ‘Those are rather high stakes.’

At this point, a raven swooped down and alighted on the plinth of a lion statue which stood at the bottom of the steps. ‘Tumnus,’ he said, ‘the council is about to begin.’ Again, I had to work not to start and stare.

‘I know,’ said Tumnus rather impatiently. ‘But this young man...’ he trailed off. ‘I’m very sorry. I’ve started to acquaint myself with your problem without knowing your name.’

‘I’m Peridan,’ I said. Then I added, after a moment’s thought, ‘Lord of Lionshaim. It is an honour to meet you, Master Tumnus.’

‘Oho!’ Said the raven, ruffling its feathers. ‘So there is a lord of those lands. That town is growing very heedlessly I’ll have you know. I make my home there, and all the woodland creatures are in danger of having their lands taken by humans.’

‘I would love to be of service to you, noble Raven,’ I replied, ‘But I do not yet have my lands restored to me.’ I turned to Tumnus, ‘That is why I am here, and why everything hinges on this. Without my lands, I am homeless. With them, I hope to do some good for Narnia.’

Tumnus and Sallowpad exchanged a look, then both nodded. I supposed this meant they approved of me, for the next words out of Sallowpad’s mouth were, ‘If I were you, I should stand on ceremony. You have a right to enter the castle as a courtier if you are Lord of Lionshaim. Once in, you could then address yourself to the Kings and Queens.’

‘Perhaps I would be lucky enough to have someone present me to them?’ I said, smiling hopefully. 

Tumnus smiled a bit and waved me forward as he started up the stairs. I hurried after him. Tumnus led me past the Great Hall to a smaller chamber. He murmured to a guard to announce me. As we waited, he explained, ‘They are about to take council, so it is easiest to come to them rather than summon them to the throne room.’

I nodded. My stomach churned, and I swallowed what felt like a lot of saliva. Then the guard came and opened the doors and announced, ‘His lordship, Peridan of Lionshaim, your Majesties.’

All four kings and queens sat on carved chairs behind a polished table. They did not look friendly or young, but grave and majestic.

King Edmund sat back in his chair when he saw me. ‘Fancy seeing you here, Lord Peridan.’

‘You remembered me,’ I stammered.

‘You will find I have a prodigious memory,’ King Edmund replied, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips.

Perhaps it was that smirk which inspired the perverse part of me. I wanted to respond ‘Or perhaps it’s that I am exceptionally memorable.’ I managed to bite back the retort just in time, but King Edmund seemed to have caught something of it in my face, and his eyes seemed to dare me to say it. 

‘Of course we remember you,’ Queen Susan said with warmth. ‘But whatever can have brought you all the way from the Lone Islands?’

‘That you would ask for an official audience?’ The High King said, turning the conversation away from pleasantries.

‘You Majesties—‘ My voice squeaked, and I cleared my throat. ‘Your Majesties, every noble in the Lone Islands speaks of the day when our exile ends and we might return to Narnia. For me, that day has come. I am here in the hope that you will, in your grace, return to me those lands which are mine by hereditary right, stretching back to the days when King Gale granted them to my family.’ My voice still quavered a bit, but I was satisfied enough with the speech.

‘King Gale,’ King Edmund mused, ‘If it is as you say, that makes your house a very ancient one.’

‘I have the scrolls,’ I said. I took out the map which the Record Keeper at the governor’s palace had given me, an ancient parchment which marked out the lands my family held and bore King Gale’s seal. I laid it on the table and the four of them bent over it.

‘This is a substantial holding,’ the High King remarked. ‘These lands border Cair Paravel’s.’

‘And cover the new town of Lionshaim, which has sprung up just down the coast,’ King Edmund added, tapping the map where the town was, though there was nothing on the paper.

‘That’s neither here nor there, is it?’ said Queen Susan. ‘If the lands belong to Lord Peridan’s family, then they are his. We know he’s the heir of his house.’

‘Yes, but it’s more than that,’ said Queen Lucy. ‘There are all manner of people living here: dryads, fauns, dwarfs, woodland folk, and now people. We can’t just hand them over. They’re important too.’

‘Sallowpad the Raven has expressed his concerns about the town,’ I said. I clasped my hands together so hard my knuckles turned white. ‘Someone needs to manage its growth. But at the same time, well managed, it could be a profitable city for Narnia.’

‘That’s a fair point,’ said King Edmund.

The High King sat back in his chair. ‘They’re all fair points. Yes, Lionshaim needs management, but is a kid from the Lone Islands the person to do it?’

‘He’s the person with the right to do it,’ Queen Susan pointed that out.

‘And anyway, we’re all kids,’ King Edmund added. ‘That’s no kind of argument here. How old are you, my Lord?’

‘Fifteen, Sire,’ I said. My head was reeling. If they denied me, what then? Could I go crawling back to Avra?

‘There you go, Peter. Same as me,’ King Edmund said. ‘And that’s two years older than Lu.’ He leaned forward and winked at his younger sister, who pulled a face at him. Their sibling banter put me ever so slightly more at ease.

‘Lord Peridan,’ she said addressing herself to me, ‘It is not your age nor your birthright which concern me. I want to know if you will be good to all these people, balance their needs against each other, and govern them with gentleness and justice and grace.’

I opened my mouth to give them the answer they wanted to hear, as I had been taught. But looking into their noble faces, I thought such a strategy seemed duplicitous. ‘I will try,’ I said finally. ‘I don’t know if I can, but I will try to be good, and noble.’ 

Queen Lucy nodded. This seemed to decide the High King, and he pushed back his chair and circled the table. ‘Then, Lord Peridan, kneel before us.’ I dropped to my knees, trembling with anticipation. The High King took my hands between his.

‘Lord Peridan, we, the monarchs of Narnia, restore to you your title as Lord of Lionshaim and the lands which that title bears. Do you in turn swear fealty to the thrones of Narnia and to Aslan, Lord of us all?’

‘I do so swear,’ I murmured. In the Lone Islands they kissed the rings of ranking lords, but that didn’t seem like the done thing here in Narnia.

‘Then rise,’ said the High King, helping me to my feet. ‘Your birthright is claimed. May Aslan help you be worthy of it.’

I returned to Lionshaim in a flush of success, but however hearty the celebration, it was also short lived. verything needed to be done in the town. Roads needed paving, banks established, the port organised, a market built. I appointed a mayor, but most of the decisions came down to me. 

I wanted to ride the breadth of Narnia on Lodestar’s back and feel the wind in my hair. I wanted to find ways to paint the quality of light as it seemed to rest on the fields in a golden mist of a morning. I wanted to find a way to fulfil my promise to my father, forge a new destiny for myself. I had to build a city and balance its growth with the needs of the Narnians already in residence as I swore I would. I longed for someone to advise me, but I had to lead. The only people who could advise me were the Kings and Queens, but I did not dare solicit advice from them when I had promised I would take care of their people. Instead I sent letters to the caste to request roads, get approval for trade, ask the policy on tariffs, and received replies, but none of them with a royal seal. The advisors and ministers responded to my small requests. I hardly expected the Kings and Queens to take the time.

I was burrowing through paperwork one fine afternoon when Sallowpad swooped into the window frame. ‘Good Sallowpad,’ I said. ‘How can I help you?’ I tried to sound patient, but I was annoyed he should interrupt this moment with what was bound to be another request or problem.

‘Today, my Lord Peridan, I am helping you. Follow me.’ 

I was too intrigued to ignore him. I saddled Lodestar, who was keen to stretch his legs and galloped after Sallowpad. After a sprint through the countryside, we came quite suddenly to a young wood, with bits of crumbling wall surrounding it.

I frowned a bit at Sallowpad, but he beckoned me forward. The whole place had a melancholy air, thought I couldn’t say why. At last we came to a bit of a clearing in the trees, and in this space stood the ruins of a once grand house. I could see broken stained glass in the windows, rusted iron filigree in the gates. Above the doorway, cut into the stone, I could see the weathered remains of a dragon couchant.

‘Was this—?’ I breathed.

Sallowpad nodded his raven’s nod. ‘Once the seat of the house of Lionshaim.’

I slid off Lodestar’s back and went forward to explore. The winter, the war, the thaw had not been kind to the house of my forebears, but even so I could see what it once was. I passed from room to room, the only ceiling the canopy of trees. I kicked away rubble to find the floor was of painted Island tiles. The rotting doors still had some of their carvings. Saddest of all were the scraps of possessions that I could find: the mouldy leather cover of a book, all the pages eaten away, a little wooden toy horse, very like the toy horse I had as a small boy, a weathered trunk with a store of moth eaten silk dresses. All these things spoke of the panicked flight of my ancestors. I had heard tales of the Flight so many times they had become meaningless to me. Every child my age rolled their eyes when the grandparents would gather round and tell the stories of their grandparents stowing onto ships with only a trunk of their possessions, landing in Narrowhaven as paupers. Sitting in the sun soaked orchards of Avra, those tales sounded melodramatic. Here though, I saw the haste, the fear these people must have felt to leave everything behind. I wondered whether they ever thought they would see this place again.

‘I must remake it,’ I said aloud. ‘I must pay honour to them.’

‘As it should be,’ said Sallowpad with a bow.


	6. By Slow prudence to make mild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I try to find my place in Narnia, and come to know King Edmund and Queen Susan a bit better.

When the call for the muster came, I knew at once that I had to go out for the army. The surest way to defend the broken and the helpless was to become a knight. Everyone knew there were barely a score of knights, and all of them had earned their titles through daring and noble deeds. At court, Queen Lucy often told the story of how the High King had earned his knighthood from Aslan himself by saving Queen Susan from the jaws of a wolf. King Peter would tell the tale of how King Edmund saved the Narnian army at Beruna by breaking the Witch’s wand and almost paying for it with his life. Aslan had knighted King Edmund for that feat. 

The first step in earning the scarlet was joining the army. Even this was a high honour. Every year the kings called the muster, a week of gruelling trials, and only a few were chosen. With all my training in Military Arts, though, I thought I stood a very good chance of passing muster.

I always had a very ambivalent feeling towards Military Arts. They had formed the majority of my education: swordplay, strategy, archery, horseback riding, and negotiation and diplomacy. The subjects I really liked, history and poetry and storytelling, were taught as an afterthought, and instruction in art and music was simply to keep us from being idle. In the Island way, they made much of the art of being a soldier and how brave we were, but despite all the training, not one man in the Lone Islands had seen battle for five generations.

So much was apparent the moment I showed up for the muster. I wore my plate armour, newly kitted out with some dwarf wrought pieces and gleaming. I trudged onto the field ready to hold my head up high and proud as the house of Lionshaim, as they taught us in roll call during military arts. Only no one was wearing anything like a full suit of armour. The sons of lords who were there had leather armour, perhaps the odd chest plate. Even the kings themselves wore battered practice armour. One grizzled general chuckled at me and jeered, ‘Careful there. You don’t want to go denting your parade armour.’ Everyone snickered, and I winced.

Things did not improve. In cavalry training, Lodestar was confused by riding with the cats, no matter how much coaxing I did. In archery I was terrible as ever. I thought I might save myself when it came to hand to hand combat. I had always excelled in that.

As I squinted through the rain while waiting my turn on the field I saw myself sitting in the orangerie with Uncle when I was a boy. He was giving me a lesson in Calormene, drilling me on which forms of address to use. When I parroted these correctly, he nodded.

‘Good, good. You have something of an ear for the language, my boy.’ After a pause, he lavished me with his highest praise: ‘Your mother would be proud.’

I glowed at this, and worked all the harder.

My father and Orran came in, and Father demanded, ‘Why are you squirrelling him away in here, Emdir?’

I chirped a greeting in Calormene, thinking to show off my new skill to Father. He frowned.

‘So this is what you’ve been doing with him? Teaching him to speak like a dark faced Calormene?’

‘I did not think I needed to remind you that he is a Calormene,’ Uncle said, drawing himself up and stuffing his hands in his sleeves. ‘He gets that from your late wife, if you remember.’

‘He is a Narnian!’ Father cried. ‘He is heir to the oldest noble family on these Islands, and will one day carry the title of Lord of Lionshaim.’

‘So now that Laureliana is gone you wish to erase all memory of her?’ Uncle challenged, his eyes growing beady and glittering like beetles.

‘How dare you?’ Father roared, making me flinch.

Uncle appraised Father and Orran coolly. ‘I did think you would at least let her live on in her son and daughter.’

Father growled and lunged for Uncle, and I jumped back. Orran stepped between them, pushing Father back. ‘Leave it, Caernan. Look to Peridan.’

Father did look at me, and then he dissolved into tears. I bolted from the orangerie up to my room and curled up on my bed. I threw the covers over my head and sang Island balladthat my mother used to sing to me, but I stumbled over a line. I went through it several times, but my memory stuck each time.

Orran’s voice eventually finished the line.

I peeled the covers away. ‘Are Father and Uncle still upset?’ 

‘They’re calming down,’ he answered. 

I rubbed my face. ‘I didn’t mean to make him mad.’

‘I know,’ said Orran. He sat beside me and rubbed my hair. ‘Your father knows too.’ We were silent a moment, and then he said, ‘You’re choosing your fighting style soon, aren’t you?’

I nodded. I knew he was trying to distract me. I rather wanted it to work.

‘What are you going for? Straight sword? Scimitar? Spear?’

I laughed. No one chose spear. ‘Well...’I began slowly, ‘The fencing masters did an exhibition at school. They showed us double wielding just for fun, but...’ I tailed off with a shrug.

Orran boomed a laugh. ‘You could hide behind a shield but instead you want to double wield. You’re going to surprise us all one day.’

‘Do you think I should do it then?’ I asked, my voice hopeful.

‘I think you should be exactly who you want to be. Show ‘em what you’ve got, eh?’

At the muster though, I started to doubt myself. Only the centaurs double wielded, and I was no centaur. And the Kings faced off against each other and made such a show of sword and shield that I was quite breath taken. I had never seen a man equal the High King’s skill and power or King Edmund’s cleverness. After watching that, double wielding seemed showy and pointless. So I used a shield for hand to hand combat and lost against every opponent.

Throughout all of this I kept glancing at the kings, standing impassive among their generals. There was not even a flicker of recognition from King Edmund, and I didn’t know if this made things better or worse.

Of course they didn’t call my name to join the lists. I stomped off the field, my shining armour dented and mud-stained. I pried off my greaves and shin guards and threw them into my pack. When Lodestar saw me going into the bags, he started nosing for apples. I fished one out and held it out for him. ‘Not that you deserve it,’ I told him. He ignored me.

So I returned to Lionshaim. Work there did not cease—if anything, it doubled, then trebled, and every choice was a delicate balance between the humans in the town and the wood folk in the country and I didn’t know how to manage everyone’s expectations. I answered with a flurry of ideas—I negotiated a trading deal with the dwarf smithy on the edge of town whereby my ships would bring their goods to the markets in Narrowhaven, where Dwarfish metalwork was much in demand. Then I combed the town for artisans and labourers to carry out the recreation of the House of Lionshaim. I also keeping an eye on how to develop the town. Narrowhaven was so ancient, with so many winding streets and blind alleys. Impracticalities abounded, and the beauty came from its sun soaked, haphazard charm. Here though, was an opportunity to build a city with room to grow, a place which could perhaps rival Tashbaan as no other city in the world had done. I sat with the mayor and planned out the grand squares and broad avenues leading to different quarters. Then we showed the plans to the woodland folk and had to redraw half of them because of all the objections. I sent letters to the castle to request roads, get approval for trade, ask the policy on tariffs. I received replies, but none of them with a royal seal. 

I chided myself for thinking that I would truly be friends with any of them. They were monarchs and saviours; they didn’t have time to look for playmates. And as I looked at the mounting papers on my desk, I realised I did not either.

But still, when I was alone at night in the new house, I wondered what would become of me. At sixteen, I was living the life of a settled country squire. I could not become a knight if I wasn’t good enough to fight in the army. I hadn’t even progressed my art apart from a few doodles in the margins of shipping schedules and the new maps of my holdings and the town. And dimly in the corners of my mind panic started to creep in: the future of the house rested on my shoulders, and that would mean marriage—to a woman. I shied away from thinking of this too much. Dreaming up grand plans, it happened, was the easy part. Realising them turned out to be much harder.

One warm afternoon found me at my desk in the newly rebuilt study, trying to work out a compromise between farmers who wanted to expand their fields and a family of rabbits whose warren ran directly under said fields. Outside saws bit through the air and hammers beat out intermittent rhythms. I dropped my head into my hands.

Above all this noise, I heard the clear call of the royal sennet. Before I had quite gathered myself, King Edmund was at the door of my study. I scrabbled to my feet and swept into a bow. ‘Your Majesty. It is an honour.’

‘I’ve not come to honour you, I’ve come to talk to you,’ he said. He held up several sheets of paper, and I saw by the wax seals that they were my letters. ‘You have been very busy, my lord, and there are about fifteen ideas here that need hammering out. I saw my secretaries working on them, all with the same seal, and I thought it would be far easier to talk to you in person than to send a score of letters.’

I gestured for him to take my chair, dumbstruck. He took the one meant for guests and crossed his legs and started flicking through the papers. ‘Now, we should discuss the tariff of goods that come through the port.’

I hesitated a moment, trying to remember what I said about tariffs, but my brain fogged up. The King looked at me. ‘Or perhaps we should take a walk. I have had a ride to clear my head from this morning’s paperwork, but it seems you are mired in it.’ He glanced over the desk. ‘I am impressed with how tidy you keep the mounting chaos.’

‘The only way to conquer chaos is with order,’ I said, drily quoting my teachers. ‘Or at least, put on a veneer of victory.’

King Edmund snorted. ‘Maybe tidy piles would help my sense of madness. I say, there is an awful lot here.’ He leaned forward and rifled one of the piles. He glanced up and sized me up. ‘A walk then. How you could possibly get anything done with all this racket is beyond me.’

Together we walked out onto the grounds, and I gave him a tour of my plans as we left the din of construction behind.

He leaned against a pile of paving stones and crossed his legs. ‘Let me get this straight. You are building a city, building a manor, and managing the people of these lands.’ He ticked these items off on his fingers.

‘More or less,’ I said. I didn’t think my other worries worth mentioning.

He looked at me hard. ‘Who do you talk to?’

I stared, not sure how to answer the question.

’Sallowpad shared some thoughts about the town this morning,’ I began.

He shook his head. ‘That’s not what I mean. Who do you confide in? I’m lucky—I’ve got Peter, and Su, and Lu. Even if Peter can be a bit of a blockhead and Susan’s useless sometimes because she’s such a soft touch. Lu’s quite clever though. Sees things others don’t. But you don’t have anyone? You’re here all on your own?’

I tensed, folding my arms across myself. ‘My parents are dead. My uncle wouldn’t come, and my sister is too young still. There was nothing else for it but to strike out on my own.’

‘Hm,’ said King Edmund, and he looked very thoughtful.

We continued the tour of the grounds, and our talk eventually turned to business. King Edmund had a keen and logical mind and could see the far reaching implications of things. We soon sank into debates as we hammered things out, and I had never had such an easy conversation before. I was sorry when he left. I felt lighter, but also emptier.

A week later a messenger in royal livery brought not one but two letters with royal seals. The first had King Edmund’s—he himself had answered my latest letter. The second had the lion rampant of Narnia, which told me that it was not a personal communication but one on behalf of all four monarchs. It was an invitation to the summer fete at the castle, signed by Queen Susan.

Honoured as I was by the invitation, the actual party overwhelmed me. I only had my Island clothes, and these marked me as different, as did my olive skin and Island manners. And everyone seemed to know each other so well.

To give myself something to do I started sketching the Kings and Queens. King Peter was in the full bloom of noble youth, broad and strong, with no trace of childish roundness in his cheeks though he was scarcely older than eighteen. To draw him I needed quick, firm, decisive strokes of the pencil. Queen Susan moved with such grace and softness that my sketches of her didn’t look right until I had blurred the pencil lines with my finger. Queen Lucy was growing into a maid, but the difficulty was not capturing her in the moment between childhood and adulthood. Rather, it was finding a way to draw the light which touched her. If I drew too many shadows the sketch came out wrong. Even if the likeness was fair, it didn’t capture the essence of Queen Lucy. So I learned that afternoon to do studies in light.

But for all my efforts—which amounted to a dozen spoiled sketches—I could not draw King Edmund, nor could I quite figure out why. I thought it might be because I needed to find a way to draw motion, as the king was never still. Then I thought perhaps he was the counterpoint to his sister, and I needed more shadow, but that seemed wrong too. Hard lines, soft lines, shadow, light, nothing seemed right. I almost snapped my pencil in frustration.

I felt someone stand over me and I looked up to see Queen Susan there. I hurried to put my sketchbook away and scrabble to my feet. She stopped me though, putting out her hand.

‘Please don’t,’ she said. ‘Rather, I was hoping I might join you.’

‘Of course!’ I said, forgetting some of my manners in my surprise. 

She sank down beside me and offered a plate of cakes. ‘I do not think you will have tried this yet. It is a very Narnian delicacy—honey cakes made by the Bears.’ I popped it into my mouth and felt the sticky sweetness slide down my throat.

‘Your Majesty is kind to share it with me,’ I said.

‘As you were our best host in the Lone Islands, I thought fitting to try and return the favour,’ she said with a smile.

King Edmund dropped down in front of us. ‘Here’s where the cake has got to. Are you hoarding it, Lord Peridan?’

The urge to tease him rose up in me. I thought he might invite it, the way his dark eyes sparked. I pretended to be shocked and said ‘Of course not, Sire. I would never leave you bereft.’ I held out the plate to him, and he chuckled.

Queen Susan scolded, ‘Edmund! Don’t needle him so. I brought the cakes over for him.’

‘Don’t worry. From what I’ve seen Lord Peridan is more than capable of handling himself.’ Here Edmund flashed me a little wink. Something in me fluttered, but I dared to return it. ‘Anyway, Su,’ King Edmund said through a mouthful, ‘They’re going to do some shooting. You should go in.’

‘Oh,’ she demurred, blushing. ‘I don’t know about that.’

King Edmund rolled his eyes. ‘Come on! It’s such good sport watching you trounce everyone else. I bet you can even beat Lord Peridan here.’

‘That’s easily done,’ I said. ‘I am no marksman.’ I thought of my failure at the muster again and my cheeks grew hot.

‘I am sure you are selling yourself short,’ she replied, gracious as ever. 

‘You may as well show her,’ King Edmund said, ‘Or she’ll just think you’re being modest.’ 

I laughed nervously, unsure whether King Edmund was teasing me or criticising me. ‘If that will satisfy your Majesties, I can only comply.’ 

King Edmund jumped to his feet. ‘Come on then.’

I rose and extended a hand to Queen Susan, who slipped her hand into mine. As we walked to the targets, I offered her my arm, and she inclined herself towards me. The whole scene felt like something out of an old ballad. She seemed born to be a lady fair.

But of course then I had to give a demonstration of my archery skills. I let an arrow fly and it went wide of the target.

But the Queen was very patient, and she stepped forward to correct my stance. She guided my hand to draw back the bow, and there was almost a caress in the way she touched me. When she whispered in my ear, ‘Now,’ it would have sent a thrill down anyone’s spine. I let loose and watched the arrow sink into the target just outside the bullseye.

I grinned at her. ‘That is the best shot I’ve ever taken. I thought I was hopeless at archery.’

‘It’s not so hard, once you get the hang of it,’ she said, gazing up at me. She made me feel like a hero for that one shot taken in sport.

The same giddiness that I had earlier with King Edmund possessed me, and I said, ‘Let me see you shoot, your Majesty, of your courtesy.’ Then I sat in the grass at her feet and gazed up at her with expectation. She trilled a laugh and brushed her fingers ever so lightly over my hair as she collected her bow.

She emptied her quiver, each arrow sinking into the bullseye fo the target and I claimed the honour of collecting her arrows. 

After the exhibitions were over, Queen Lucy announced that she and Queen Susan were going to make flower crowns. ‘Go get me some flowers, Ed,’ she commanded, waving her brother away.

‘Yes, your Majesty,’ he said with a good natured eye roll.

‘Allow me to collect your flowers,’ I said to Queen Susan. She waved me off as well, though her gesture was more sweet than regal.

King Edmund and I walked to the clearing together. I very much wanted to talk to him, but I could only think of points of business, and that would have spoiled the moment. So I set about my task, collecting a rainbow of wild flowers, carefully selecting for colour and shape. Not far away, I saw that King Edmund was plucking at random.

I was concentrating on bluebells when I felt something glance off my shoulder. I turned round, and Edmund was grinning and tossing an acorn in the air.

‘I’d be worried about retaliation,’ he said, ‘But I’ve seen you shoot.’ He threw the acorn and I blocked it with my hand. 

‘That’s only with a bow and arrow,’ I said. I picked it up and threw it back. It pinged off the brooch of his cape. 

He laughed, and we had a breathless war of tiny projectiles. When we ran out of ammunition, we scooped up our flowers and went back, tipping them into the queens’ laps. Then we stretched out at their feet while they made the crowns. I chewed on a blade of grass and made a business of offering flowers to Queen Susan for her crown. King Edmund turned this into something of a competition, and I leaned forward to hand Queen Susan flowers and murmur where they might go. She accepted the conspiracy and kept her voice hushed as well. Sometimes our fingers brushed. When the crowns were finished, Queen Susan placed hers on on my head while Queen Lucy decorated her brother.

‘How do I look?’ King Edmund asked, preening.

‘Nobody will compliment you; you’re already far too vain,’ Queen Lucy said, sticking her tongue out.

‘I will take that as a compliment,’ King Edmund answered, sticking his nose in the air. ‘You may bestow kind words on Lord Peridan now.’

‘You look very fetching indeed, my lord,’ Queen Susan said, and she leant forward to trace my jaw with her fingertips and lift my chin. I met her soft eyes, blue like the night sky an hour after sunset, and I felt my stomach turn over. This was the moment of my rebirth. I could leave my past behind me and I could flirt with the Queen, and have her flirt with me. I almost kissed her for this. I settled for touching her wrist with my fingertips.


	7. To Store and Hoard Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queens pose some important questions. I try to decide how I see myself.

After the fete, I received an invitation to every event at the castle that summer. At each of these I found myself at Queen Susan’s side. I joined the hunt—really more of a maying party culminating in a merry chase—and found myself riding beside the Queen. At the balls, I could not shrink away into an alcove because somehow, she and I gravitated towards each other. I always asked her to dance and she always slipped her hand into mine and looked up into my face.

In the meantime, King Edmund and I continued to collaborate on business through letters—and even occasional meetings when he could spare time to ride out to my estate. I wanted to say we were friends, but we only ever seemed to talk business. I didn’t know how to get past that without playing a bold card.

Summer started to melt into autumn and I had my seventeenth birthday. People began to expect me at court. I knew several noble families by name and we would bow to each other although like in the Lone Islands, I was the same rank as the fathers instead of the carefree sons. Tumnus always made a point of chatting to me over a glass of wine. The gates of Cair Paravel opened to me; I was expected.

The harvests started to come in, and yields that year were high. My ship came back with a handy profit from the metalwork trade. I could see how rich and happy a land Narnia was.

But it was not free of trouble. Word came that a band of the Witch’s remaining followers had gathered near Lantern Waste, and a ripple of fear spread through court and kingdom. The Kings were going to ride out with the army. I called for the folk of Lionshaim to send donations to the army, and together we made a handsome contribution of supplies and munitions. On the first cool morning, the army rode past my house. The servants lined the path to honour them. I took my place by them as head of the house with some reluctance when we heard the bright call of the bugles and saw the army riding the road.

The Kings were dressed for war; their armour gleaming bright in the sun. The High King’s jaw was set and his eyes steely. Beside him, King Edmund rode straight and proud, his dark eyes sweeping over everything, taking all in. Our eyes met; he gave me the briefest of nods. The standards flapped in the wind and the regiments marched past in perfect time. The High King gave a call and the soldiers began to sing. I could hear the Kings singing as well, a marching tune that made my chest swell with the grand majesty of it.

I turned back to my paperwork and planning, feeling soft and useless in my day clothes. I vented some frustration with sword practice for an hour, but eventually I had to go back inside.

A few days later I received another letter from the castle. This was not an official invitation but a note in Queen Susan’s small, neat handwriting.

_My dear Lord Peridan,_

_We are trying to find some diversion whilst my brothers are away and find ourselves in sore need of company. I daresay you won’t find decorating for the harvest festival very entertaining, but your presence would be very welcome if you can spare the time._

_Yours faithfully,_   
_Susan, Queen of Narnia &c_

Underneath, Queen Lucy had written a postscript.

_Please do come because we are very bored and should like to see a friendly face. I know this is what Susan wrote, but she wrote it so seriously it doesn’t sound as sincere an invitation as it is. -L_

I smiled at this as I pocketed the letter. I squinted round at the house. Surely the work could go on without me for a day. I called for Lodestar and jumped into the saddle. We tore away at full gallop, just to feel the freedom of speed.

When I arrived at Cair Paravel, Queen Susan was waiting on the steps. She smiled and stretched out her hands to me. ‘Lord Peridan. You are very welcome.’

I clasped her hands and bowed over them. ‘I could not refuse such a gracious invitation.’

‘Do you mean mine?’ Queen Lucy demanded with an impish smile. I laughed a bit and the Queens led me inside.

We had tea in the Great Hall among some half finished decorations in blazes of fall colours. Queen Susan sighed. ‘I am trying to get the decorations right for the harvest festival, but nothing seems to be coming together.’

I tilted my head, examining the decorations. ‘It’s a question of balance,’ I said, then checked myself. ‘If you don’t mind me saying.’

‘Do go on,’ said Queen Susan.

I got up and picked up a wreath of crimson leaves. ‘If you were to add stalks of wheat—or perhaps an entire wreath of wheat and fruit.’ I took out my sketchbook and demonstrated with a few quick strokes of a pencil.

‘Yes, exactly that! Thank you,’ Queen Susan said, and she laid her hand on my forearm. I looked up into her face.

‘How did you do this?’ Queen Lucy said, cutting through the moment. She held the sketchbook up and squinted at it. ‘You only drew a few lines but I can see everything so clearly.’

I shrugged and reached out, hoping she would return the sketchbook. I did not want her to see—and mock—the sketches I had done of the four of them.

‘Lucy,’ Susan chided, ‘Those are Peridan’s sketches. We should wait until he chooses to show us.’ She cast a glance at me. ‘Though I very much wish he would.’

I took the sketchbook back from Queen Lucy and drew my lower lip into my mouth. I glanced up at Queen Susan, who looked both hopeful and encouraging, and then back down at the sketchbook. I flipped to a sketch and placed it before her, forcing myself not to wince.

It was a study I had done at a recent banquet, of the Kings and Queens on the dais. On another page was a more formal one, of the four of them sitting in their thrones looking very regal and still. This one had more movement—King Edmund and Queen Lucy had leaned forward to conspire with each other, while Queen Susan smiled ruefully and the High King had tipped his head back with laughter. I preferred this one to the formal sketch because I fancied it started to capture their personalities.

‘This is marvellous,’ Queen Susan said. ‘I have interviewed many artists, but none could capture us like this.’ She grazed her fingertips over the sketch in the same way that she brushed my shoulder when we danced.

I grinned. I couldn’t help it. ‘Thank you,’ I murmured.

‘I’ve never seen you smile like that,’ Queen Lucy said.

Queen Susan looked up from the sketch. She didn’t speak; she met my eyes with a soft look in her own and laid her hand on top of mine.

‘Now you’ll have to help us decorate,’ Queen Lucy said. ‘And I imagine Susan has many more projects in mind.’ She rose and dusted down her skirts before going over to a project of garlands of berries.

Queen Susan and I sat making wreaths for a quiet half hour, passing each other leaves and flowers and stalks of wheat in companionable silence. Occasionally I would look up from my work and find her glancing at me. This made my fingers fumble. I tried not to think too hard about what it might mean.

I stood on a ladder to hang the garlands Queen Lucy had made, and when Queen Susan passed them to me, our fingers brushed. I did not know if this was by accident or design.

Queen Susan stepped back to examine our work. ‘It looks well,’ she declared. ‘Cheerful and warm.’

Queen Lucy gave a restive sigh from her chair and her sister turned to her. ‘Do you not think so, Lu?’

‘It looks fine, I suppose,’ said Queen Lucy, ‘But what’s the point? The boys are out at war and we’re stuck here at home hanging garlands.’

I pursed my mouth.

‘The point?’ Queen Susan said, turning slowly to face her sister. ‘Do you not think there is a point to this?’

‘It’s not that exactly,’ said Queen Lucy. ‘It’s not pointless, as such. But I want to be with the boys. Helping them.’

‘Peter lets you ride with the medics sometimes and that is more than enough,’ Queen Susan replied in a clipped voice.

‘It’s not though!’ Her sister burst out. ‘I want to be out there doing something noble and important for Narnia, not playing at tea parties.’

I folded my arms across myself. Pleasant as the afternoon was, Queen Lucy had cut right to the heart of the matter.

Queen Susan threw the ribbon she was holding to the ground. ‘This is not play! Why is it that everyone thinks the only way to be noble is to cover yourself in blood and get yourself wounded or killed? Taking someone’s life is not a noble deed. What makes Peter Magnificent and Edmund Just is not what they do on the battlefield, but after they have won the day—the mercy Edmund shows to our enemies, the way Peter rallies everyone round the banner of Narnia. It is in the sacrifice that they make in riding out. You think Peter doesn’t trust you. You don’t see that he marches to war so you and I don’t have to. The very least I can do is show them what their sacrifice is for, how much we prosper because of them. That, sister, is why we hang garlands and make merry. To honour what they do.’

She turned away and wiped the corners of her eyes with the crook of her finger. ‘I am sorry, my Lord,’ she said to me. ‘I hope you will understand now when I say that I am very relieved you did not join the army. I do not think I could bear to worry any more than I already do.’

Queen Lucy launched herself out of her chair and hugged her sister. ‘I worry too,’ she said. ‘And you’re right. I’m sorry.’

Queen Susan sniffed and patted Queen Lucy’s back, then held her tighter. I made the final arrangements to the decorations in silence. After a few minutes, both queens came to stand beside me and we hung decorations together. To break the silence, Queen Lucy started to sing in a high, clear voice, and that started to cheer us.

The bright sound of a horn cut through Queen Susan’s song. We froze and stared at each other. The Queen’s faces were tense, their eyes dancing with hope. ‘Raise the flags at once,’ Queen Susan called. ‘They are home.’

She and Queen Lucy led the way to the castle entrance. All of us in the company followed. Queen Susan stood very still, her hands balled into fists at her sides, biting down on her lip.

‘It will be alright,’ Queen Lucy murmured. ‘We would have had word.’

Queen Susan said nothing in reply.

The portcullis raised and the army rode through, both the High King and King Edmund leading the column. Queen Susan made a choking noise and flew down the steps, barrelling into the High King just as he was dismounting his horse. He staggered with the force of her embrace, but then he folded her to him. He murmured something to her, but I was not close enough to hear.

Meanwhile Queen Lucy had gone to greet King Edmund. She cupped his face and looked into his eyes. ‘Well and whole. Susan will be satisfied then.’

He was normally pristine and well appointed, but underneath a week’s growth of scrubby beard his face was streaked with sweat and grime. He pushed a hank of greasy hair off his face and I saw that his eyes were tired. Queen Susan gathered him into her hug with King Peter. ‘For heaven’s sake, Su! We’re not dying.’

‘I know,’ she sniffed, ‘And that’s the point.’

He rolled his eyes, but he returned the embrace. When she let him go he saw me. ‘And how have you been bearing up, my good Lord?’

‘Better than you,’ I replied with a hint of a smile. I felt that he wanted to be teased like everything was normal. I was right; he laughed drily.

‘Yes, well that’s what battle does to you. Bit hard to be fresh as a daisy when you’re fighting tooth and nail.’ Despite the ironic twist of his mouth I saw that he was sincere.

All round the courtyard I could the weariness seemed to ooze off all the soldiers. When I had heard of the glory of battle, I thought then that the army would return home flushed with victory, smiling and triumphant, not grim and glazed with exhaustion.

The High King looked round him. Like King Edmund, he was grimy, with a full beard despite being usually clean shaven. The dirt showed more in his fair hair. ‘Rest, then food for everyone,’ he declared.

‘Everything’s been prepared for your return,’ Queen Susan said. ‘I’ll have the kitchens start at once.’ The High King nodded at this.

‘Rest for all,’ he repeated. ‘That means you too, Ed.’

King Edmund glanced up from a bulletin he was reading and frowned. ‘Oh. Yes. I suppose.’ He clanked inside, murmuring to me as he went, ‘Although I never sleep well after coming home from a battle, despite feeling so tired I could drop.’

An impulse seized me to offer him a game of chess or some other diversion. I could see that his mind was ticking over too much, too fast, which I knew all too well. By the time I opened my mouth to speak, though, he was already halfway up the stairs.

When I got home that evening, I sat before the mirror and drew a portrait of myself. I used the same techniques I had for drawing Susan—blurring the lines, gentle edges, light shadows. I accentuated the roundness of my cheeks and the innocence of my eyes and the velvet and silken softness of my clothes. I finished in the small hours and appraised the drawing. The likeness was good, I decided, and that did not sit well with me.

I drew another one day after receiving a particularly complementary and chatty letter from King Edmund. We had been going back and forth about the construction of roads, and I had sent him a map with a proposed route, carefully researched so that it didn’t pass through any wildlife settlements yet still straight enough to be practical. I drew the map myself, and I couldn’t refrain from adding little notes and comments relating to all the things we had talked about. His reply was full of warmth and wit, and even commendation. That night I took up my pencil and tried another self portrait, this time full of energy and strength and done with quick and forceful strokes.

Laid side by side, both portraits confused me. I didn’t know which version of myself was true, and the yearning for someone to guide me swept over me. I stuffed both portraits in an envelope and penned a letter to Orran.

_Dear Orran,_

_I hope all is well on Avra. I haven’t heard much news. Aurie is an irregular correspondent and Uncle writes with precious little news except quarterly updates to say things are going well with the family holdings. I would like to respond with a detailed account sheet of the fortune I have built since arriving in Narnia, but it is perhaps best not to poke the dragon._

_Things are as prosperous as when I last wrote you—my trade fleet does well, and I have added another ship to the fleet just this past month. Expanding the fleet is a bit speculative, but the shipbuilding and hiring of shipwrights and purchasing of materials and stores means more jobs for the town. I am very eager for the town to do well. I feel it is the best opportunity I have to show my worth to the crown, especially since I did terribly at muster and did not get selected for the army. I feel Father would be horribly disappointed in me because shortly after there was a campaign West to fight some remnants of the Witch’s forces. Needless to say I did not ride out. Instead I went to the castle at the invitation of Queen Susan and saw the homecoming of a battered, tired army. I don’t even know that I want to be part of that, only I did promise father._

_In the meanwhile, there is also the matter of Queen Susan. I don’t know how else to describe our relationship except to say that she flirts with me. We dance together at every ball. She finds reasons to touch my arm or my hand. Most of all, she gazes at me with her soft, deep blue eyes as though I am a hero. Except I’ve not done anything._

_I’ve heard people say ‘The Queen only has eyes for Lord Peridan’ and this fills me with a strange fear I don’t understand. I should be proud and happy. She is so lovely, and so kind to me. I am happy when I am with her. I like her immensely._

_And yet I hesitate, and I don’t know why. It seems silly to turn away the love of a beautiful, kind-hearted, lovely Queen because three years ago I had one kiss with a boy. That brought me nothing but pain. Besides, what can one kiss even tell a person about anything? Maybe I just wanted someone, anyone to like me. Or even if it did mean something, maybe I am more like my father and could be happy with a woman too. Maybe I’m just shy and that is why the words stick in my mouth. Or I am intimidated by what her brother will say—the High King, that is. A lot of people think Edmund is very inscrutable and imposing, but it is not so very hard to get a read on him. I rather like him, to the point where I often want to tease him. I have the feeling he wouldn’t mind, but still I don’t quite dare, not really knowing the rules. Maybe that same uncertainty is what’s stopping me from asking to court the Queen?_

_Please advise me here—I feel constantly I am in over my head. I wish we were all of the same rank, because I like all four of them so very much I crave their friendship. I am always mindful that they are my monarchs though, and going round in circles is giving me a headache._

_Yours,_   
_Peridan_

_PS have enclosed two portraits of myself which I think show my confusion. Am I successful or a failure? Am I acceptable or an outcast? Perhaps you can help me decide._

A few weeks later I received Orran’s reply:

_My dear boy,_

_Every day I marvel at how much you have grown and how well you are doing at such a young age. You have done more with your time in Narnia than most men—myself included—have done with a score of years in the Lone Islands. I do not doubt you made the right decision. You are only seventeen—I think the world has much more to see of you yet. I am so proud of you already, and I know your father would be too. Do not worry about the army. You have many hours yet to come where you might distinguish yourself. Destiny does not like to establish a status quo._

_I think often of the conversation we had before you left the Lone Islands, where I told you about myself and your father. While my heart was glad that you accepted the truth of what we were to each other, I do not know if you truly understood the lesson. Peridan, my boy, there is no point or profit in trying to deny who you are. It may be possible that you do not fully know yet. That is likely the reason for your reticence with the Queen. The other possibility, the one I consider more likely, is that you know the truth but you are afraid admitting because it will bring you pain and circumspection when your star is rising. It would seem easier to ignore the truth, but there I advise you not to think with the rashness of youth. To you, the now is everything. But twenty years from now, will you be happily married to the Queen or secretly miserable because you ignored yourself. This is something only you can answer, but do not answer in haste, whatever you do._

_To that end, on a more practical front recognise that there is no need for a quick decision. You are not of age for another three years, so even if you were madly in love, the High King could not possibly hear your suit until then. Use this time to think, and to try and understand yourself. Remember that more than anything, both your father and I want you to be happy._

_Your affectionate godfather,_   
_Orran_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two for one on chapters because I need to get into the action already. Thanks for reading this far.


	8. A Bringer of New Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rabadash comes to Narnia.

The day everything changed began very ordinarily. The Kings and Queens stood outside the north gate of the castle, and we principal members of the court made a semicircle around them. A fresh, salty wind was blowing steadily off the sea, making the banners stand straight out and whipping up cloaks and skirts. The sky was a brilliant blue, and wisps of clouds were scudding across it with considerable speed. Before us was a field cleared of trees and bushes and weeds, and before the Kings and Queens stood a contingent of moles with their spades, nodding merrily and blinking their beady eyes in the bright light.

Then the magic ripple through us, changing the air. We looked past the moles, and over the crest of a hill came Pomona, the greatest of all the wood people, dressed in every shade of green imaginable with flowers and leaves twined in her hair. In some places she seemed to diffuse light into a spring green. In others, she had the depth and shadow of dark ivy, veering into the purple of acanthus. 

The moles parted for her, bowing as she made her way to the High King. She swept into a curtsey, and as she moved there was the sound of rustling leaves. The High King smiled, and then he and Queen Susan and King Edmund and Queen Lucy all bowed and curtseyed in return. I noticed though, that despite the vibrancy of Pomona, none of them seemed faded or diminished. If anything, their beauty intensified.

‘Fair monarchs,’ Pomona said. ‘Please accept the gift of this orchard from your people. I am come to ensure that it prospers as you have made Narnia prosper.’ Then she turned and knelt on the ground, burying her fingers in the grass and murmuring an incantation. When she rose, the grass was already greener, and flowers were blooming.

‘Good lady, you and your people, and these good moles, have our gratitude. We are touched and honoured by your kindness,’ King Peter said with a gracious smile.

Pomona nodded, and signaled for the moles to begin. They set to immediately, churning up clouds of soil so rich and dark it was almost black. The chief mole, Lilygloves, leaned on his spade to survey the work and then turned to the High King to pronounce, ‘Believe me, your Majesty, you’ll be glad of these fruit trees one day.’

‘Of that, good sir, I have no doubt,’ said the High King with a chuckle, not to mock Lilygloves, but because he was merry. We were all merry, and we stayed to watch the moles turn the field into a farm and Pomona scatter the seeds and dryads bring forth the saplings to plant. While all of this transpired, Susan smiled up at me, and I offered her my arm.

I had my twentieth birthday and was now officially of age. In the years since my letter to Orran very little had changed except to progress. I was accepted as a key member of the court, but had gotten no closer to joining the army—though this may have been from lack of trying on my part. Susan and I had continued our flirtation to the point where talk was not of if we would be betrothed, but when. I knew this because Tumnus continued to be a good friend and advisor. I had left my completed manor house that morning to attend the planting. 

There was to be a feast that evening in honour of the orchard planting. I knew this was my moment. I should take the afternoon to speak to the High King and then ask for Susan’s hand at the party. I could see my path clearly: I would request an official audience that afternoon, and the High King would not be surprised at all and would congratulate me, I would then take Susan aside that evening, draw her away into a courtyard flooded with moonlight and get down on one knee to ask for her hand.

As if she could hear my thoughts, Susan leaned her cheek on my arm. I glanced down at her and she looked up at me, raising her eyes slowly to meet mine and gracing me with a small, private smile as she stroked my arm. I had to admit this was effective. I gazed at King Peter, who was still watching the moles and laughing with a kingly air.

I tried to rehearse what I might say. There was no reason to refuse my suit—I was high born enough, now rich enough. From the outside, we made a lovely couple. Even I thought so as I sometimes caught glimpses of us together in mirrors. Yet I had not kissed her. I could not count the opportunities I had had, when she turned her face up to mine and her eyes sparkled. She was waiting for me to make the first move, but she sent every signal that she could. She was sending signals that very moment as she trailed her fingers down my sleeve. I did want to, or I thought I wanted to. But every time I thought to move, I hesitated—what if those kisses with Simar filled me with more desire than kissing the most beautiful woman in the world?

Then there came the horn call. At first I struggled to place the sound—I knew it, but couldn’t think from where. When it sounded again I recognised a Calormene horn. A moment later, one of the royal guard crested the hill with a Calormene messenger behind him.

The messenger cast about, trying to find King Peter. The other members of the court were as amused as they were bemused—his bearing alone made his title apparent. But I saw the messenger’s problem. The High King, one of the most powerful and feared men in all the world, was not lounging in a litter, attended by a gaggle of servants, nor was he covered head to toe in jewels. Rather, he was wearing only his crown and scarlet cloak embroidered with a golden lion. None of these were the trappings of power.

Finally the messenger figured it out, bowed low, and intoned, ‘O great barbarian king, in the name of Tash the inexorable and the Tisroc, may he live forever, I bring a message from the ambassadors of our most powerful, most mighty ruler. They crave an audience with you tomorrow, at noon.’

King Edmund cocked an eyebrow. ‘A messenger to announce an emissary?’ He murmured. Susan shushed him even so.

The High King was momentarily nonplussed, but he kept his face fairly impassive. Only his hesitation showed it. After a pause he declared, ‘Of course we shall grant this. We are honoured to receive the ambassadors of the Tisroc. Go and bring word that they should present themselves in the throne room tomorrow at eleven o’clock.’

The messenger scurried off, and King Peter watched him go, rubbing his chin. ‘Odd,’ he murmured, ‘We have heard so little from Calormen before now. This seems out of the blue.’

‘I’d wager they want something,’ Edmund declared.

‘Quite possibly—but what?’ King Peter replied. ‘Calormen has ten times the size and wealth of Narnia. What can we offer them?’

The High King decreed that all the members of the court should attend the reception of the Calormene ambassadors. I thought this wise, as Calormenes very much believed in ceremony. And so the next morning I was there when the Calormene horn sounded, and the ambassadors strode in with veiled slave girls strewing petals before them and a contingent of guards behind. These were clearly for show, as they carried only spears and had bare chests under waistcoats instead of armour. The ambassador stepped down from his litter and made obsequious bows and made a long speech praising each of the Kings and Queens but subtly praising the Tisroc more. I glance over at King Edmund, and his slightly pursed mouth and half closed eyes said he was very bored. I tried not to snicker. Susan, for her part, looked both puzzled and concerned, and she fretted her hands in her lap.

After the presentation of gifts, at which point most of the court were visibly losing patience, the ambassadors got to the heart of their message. ‘Most puissant High King, we are come to this court on behalf of the noble crown prince, Rabadash, descendant in a right line from the god Tash. He has heard tell of the beauty of your Queen, she who is called Susan, for it is known the world over. Now that we have seen with our own eyes, we are here to present you with the Prince’s royal suit. He wishes to know Queen Susan’s beauty for himself and desires to present himself to the Queen, that you may see what a favourable match he is for her.’

The Kings and Queens all started at this speech. King Edmund, who had been slumping in his throne, sat upright. Queen Lucy’s eyes widened, and her jaw even dropped a bit. The High King visibly reined in his surprise, and only pressed his lips together, while Queen Susan went pale, then blushed and put her fingers to her lips.

I felt several people turn to me, but I did not grace this with a reaction. I made a task of studying the stained glass behind the thrones and acting as though this was of no import.

‘Your gracious offer is kindly received,’ said the High King at last. ‘Naturally, we shall need time to consider—‘

‘Let him come,’ Queen Susan interrupted. ‘This Prince Rabadash. I will see him.’

There was a collective gasp at this. Even the High King turned to stare at his sister. The ambassadors shifted—they didn’t know what to do with a woman speaking her own mind. Susan gazed steadily back at her elder brother, and after a minute he turned back to the ambassadors and said in a blank voice, ‘Tell the Prince we will gladly receive him.’

The ambassadors bowed, and over their heads Susan met my eyes. She arched her brows. It was the slightest movement, but it changed her face completely, from soft and delicate to brittle and sharp. In that moment, she looked almost identical to Edmund. I let myself dwell on this so that I did not have to understand the meaning of her expression. But it was all too clear to be ignored. ‘You would not speak. Now you have lost your chance.’

The change Rabadash was about to bring hung on the breeze as we stood on the pier waiting for his ship to come in. For me, the moment rather felt like watching the Kings and Queens put in to Narrowhaven those years ago. The Prince on the ship could be anyone; we knew only that he was crown prince of Calormen and that he wanted to meet Susan. The warmth of the summer sun was on us, and the air was filled with that same slow anticipation. The High King stood perfectly still except for his hand which clasped and unclasped the lion’s head on his sword at intervals. Queen Susan stood quite close to her elder brother, and King Edmund and Queen Lucy both had furrowed brows.

In the intervening weeks since the ambassadors had come, my relationship with Susan had taken a turn. We danced together, walked together as we had, but she challenged me with looks each time, daring me to speak my mind, or perhaps kiss her in a fit of passion. If I did, I perhaps could have won her. Yet still I could not make myself, and when I was home I paced the floors and tugged at my hair, asking myself why not. Why not. I would vow to speak the next time. I played scenes of taking her in my arms and kissing her, but when I found myself face to face with her once more, I could not act. I pretended I could not say what stopped me, but I knew. I just did not want it to be true.

With great fanfare of drums and trumpets, preceded by veiled girls who strew his path with flowers, the turbaned, bejewelled, and perfumed prince descended the gangway. Queen Lucy coughed loudly, but it rather looked like she was laughing, and King Edmund smirked at her.

The other Narnians began murmuring in amazement of his getup, but in my eyes he was exactly what I would expect of a crown prince of Calormen. In fact, I suspected he had toned down some of his most extravagant apparel, for his beard was not dyed and his moustache unwaxed, and his clothes were shiny silks embroidered with gold but not bejewelled. He also left off the curls on his slippers and the bells which usually hung off those curls. I had seen pictures of princes in my uncle’s book and puzzled over them when I was a child.

He strode up to King Peter and made a perfect flourish of a Calormene bow. ‘O mighty king who has weathered the winds of war to have the sun smile down on him in victory, I, Rabadash, Crown Prince of Calormen, salute you and thank you for your most gracious hospitality. I—‘. And here he broke off as he laid eyes on Susan and put his hand over his heart. ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘Forgive me. I owe you many compliments, but your beauty has struck me dumb. It is an honour just to have seen you.’

Queen Susan blushed then, and offered him her hand, which he bowed over and touched his forehead to, but did not kiss. 

‘You are welcome, Prince,’ King Peter said. He didn’t really look at Rabadash, though, and his voice was cool and distant. If Rabadash noticed this, he did not let on. I wasn’t sure that he noticed, though, for he seemed too busy ravishing Susan with looks.

From that first hour Rabadash made his desire for the Queen apparent. Through all the official greetings and ceremony, he could not keep his eyes off her. He ravaged her with looks, ignorant of the astonishment of her siblings. He danced with her at the ball that evening, and I never saw anyone turn a folk tune into something so sensual. Susan all but swooned in his arms.

When the High King came to reclaim his sister, Rabadash began circulating and talking to the Narnians. He spent his time apart from her talking about her as much as he could, as though he were lovestruck. I gathered that he was also ferreting out information from the innocent Narnians.

I was therefore not astonished when his courtiers came up to me and said the prince desired me to present myself to him. I followed them to where Rabadash was sitting and made my bow.

‘So,’ said Rabadash in a silky voice. ‘This is the lord who is meant to be my rival.’ He leaned forward in his chair, an elbow on his knee. ‘They say you could have asked for the queen’s hand a dozen times over and never did. What sort of fool does that when she is the most beautiful woman.’ He broke off here and spent a minute watching Susan as she danced with Edmund. ‘No—not a fool. Only a half man would waste the chance to be with her.’ Only the word he used was not half man, but a Calormene slur which amounted to cock lover. I knew this word and its intention well enough, thanks to my uncle.

Rabadash and his companions laughed. I smiled and laughed weakly as though I hadn’t understood and their redoubled laughter told me my feigned ignorance had been a success. A relief, because I did not want to let him know how close he had been to the mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we get into it!


	9. All Too Little, and of One to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'For I take you all to witness what marvellous feats Rabadash did in that great tournament and hastilude which our brother the High King made for him, and how meekly and courteously he consorted with us the space of seven days,' Susan would later claim. I did not quite agree.

‘Six more days. If I can paste on a smile for six more days,’ King Edmund muttered.

I narrowed my eyes a bit, watching the back of his head from where I stood a few steps above him and tried to discern what he might mean. He half turned and gave a conspiratorial roll of the eyes, but said nothing more. 

At the sharp call of a merry horn, the gates of Cair Paravel heaved open and the Archen Court rode through. While waiting for Rabadash, King Peter, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy had been stiff and watchful, now they were filled with the warmth of expectation. Susan, on the other hand, chewed her lip worriedly.

If possible, the Archenlanders were merrier than the Narnians. The King had a twinkle in his eye and a ruddy face which reddened even further when he laughed. The lords swung down from their saddles with the ease of men sure of a good welcome. But perhaps the most ostentatious of all was Prince Corin, who could hardly wait for the groom to take his reins before he jumped down from his pony and bounded up the steps.

‘Hurrah! Father let me come and see the tourney!’ He cried, barreling into Queen Lucy, who caught him, laughing. Then he turned to Queen Susan. ‘And look! I came presentable and everything because Father said we were meeting your guests so I expressly did not ride through any mud puddles, which was very hard to do because there were some glorious ones.’

I snickered a bit, and King Edmund turned to give me a little smile. ‘That’s not even the half of him,’ he murmured.

King Peter was shaking King Lune’s hand and saying ‘Well met, sir,’ and Lune laughed a booming laugh. ‘Well met indeed, Peter! Well met indeed.’

In short, I longed to be friends with them and for the first time felt quite sure that someone would happily accept my friendship.

Prince Corin, meanwhile, had turned to Rabadash. ‘Hullo. I’m Corin. I suppose you’re the Calormene Prince everyone’s going on about?’

For a moment, Rabadash looked utterly nonplussed. He did not know what to do with someone who was so forward with his manners but of the same rank. He glanced at Queen Susan, who was giving Prince Corin a look of fond exasperation and bowed. ‘O my prince, may Tash bless this meeting of the future heads of two noble nations.’

Prince Corin screwed up his face as Rabadash bowed, and I had to bring my fist to my mouth and turn away to keep from laughing.

After the greetings were finished, we proceeded inside for lunch. Prince Corin chattered to Rabadash, who still seemed not to know what to do with a prince of the blood who so boldly disregarded his rank. When Prince Corin turned to talk to someone else, Rabadash curled his lip as he bent over his food. I watched further, but he did not let his mask slip any more during the meal.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, the High King rose and made toasts to both the Archen nobles and to Rabadash. Rabadash preened when everyone pledged him though he attempted to hide this with a bow of his head.

Then King Peter clapped his hands and declared, ‘And so, to honour this gathering of our three nations, and honour our guest Prince Rabadash, we declare open a tournament of the most worthy competitors to claim prizes in swordplay, archery, and jousting.’

A murmur of excitement filled the room. The High King went on to explain how one might submit their name to the lists. I listened closely for already I had decided to enter my name.

That night, after the lists had been published, Lord Dar of Archenland sought me out.

He wrung my hand in his hearty Archen way and declared, ‘As we’re meant to fight each other in the morning, I thought I’d come and introduce myself.’

He told me that he had twin brothers, but the elder had died before he was born in the final raid against the White Witch before the Liberation. Dar and Darrin were not much younger than King Lune and Darrin remained this King’s trusted friend. Almost a score of years later, his parents were surprised by Dar’s arrival into the world. ‘They thought it was a sign of hope, so they gave me the name of my lost brother’ he said. ‘There may have been some truth to that, because it wasn’t many years after that the Winter ended. And here were are. What’s your story?’

I told it, about my Calormene mother and Narnian father, their deaths, my father’s dream that I should be something noble. ‘So here I am,’ I finished up. I stood stiff, waiting for him to say something about my being Calormene. 

Instead he said, ‘The Winter was hard, even on those of us who were outside of Narnia. It is good to live in a new age. So let us drink to that!’ 

I rose early the next morning to practice. I worked myself as hard as I could. I had not tried for the army again, but I had practiced every single day. I would have hired a fencing master, but I couldn’t find one who was familiar with the Island style. After my disaster at the muster, I decided to stick with dual wielding. That was what I knew. 

The trouble was, without a partner I had no idea whether I was good or terrible. I could only work hard and hope that would be enough.

After an hour’s hard going I stopped to take a break and mop the sweat off my face. When I pulled the towel away from my face, a page in yellow livery stood before me. ‘Lord Peridan. The King requests an audience.’ 

‘Yes—alright,’ I stammered, and I followed him through the halls to King Edmund’s private bureau. 

King Edmund was at his desk, lounging back in his chair as he held a paper up and squinting at it. When the secretary announced me, he put the paper down and sat up.

‘Lord Peridan. You are very prompt.’

‘As one should be when there is a summons from the King,’ I answered. The words came out too fast, and the ironic note came into my voice before I could catch it. I held my breath, waiting for his displeasure.

He arched an eyebrow, but he also laughed through his nose. ‘Indeed. I am very busy and important, and I hate to be kept waiting.’

I grinned. Then I dared. ‘Well, you ought to get straight to business then.’

Here he laughed outright, then wagged his finger at me. ‘Now my good Lord, I thought I could always count on you for impeccable matters. From whence this insouciance?’

I shrugged. He gestured me to the chair opposite him. We were both still grinning. He leaned his elbows on the desk and pressed his thumbs and forefingers together as he considered me. For a moment we watched each other, sizing up whether we could really be friends. Many of our conversations reached this same point, but we never pushed things further.

‘So,’ said Edmund, clearing his throat and sitting back in his seat. ‘I see you’ve been practicing. I’m meant to ask you not to compete in the tournament. At the Queen’s request.’

I stared at the polished wood in front of me, my brows drawing together.

‘This displeases you,’ he observed.

‘If it is your Majesties’ wish that I do not compete, I am of course willing to comply,’ I said, but the words came out in a mumbled rush. ‘I am ever your humble servant.’

‘But you wanted to compete,’ Edmund insisted. I had no more protests, so I remained silent. After a pause, he pressed, ‘Why?’

I sat very stiffly, my hands folded in my lap. At last I said, ‘I wanted to show you what I was made of.’ I drew in a breath. ‘You probably don’t remember, but years ago, when you first visited the Lone Islands, there was an exhibition tournament held in your honour. I should have been invited to compete, but I was not. I went out for the army, but I performed miserably. I am better than that. I wanted the chance to prove it.’ I felt a bit dizzy—I had not laid myself so bare to anyone but Orran, and of all people I chose the King. The silence which followed was painful. 

‘I know something about that,’ he said in a very quiet voice. After a moment of further deliberation, he declared,‘Keep your place in the tournament. If my sister’s paramour is too delicate to withstand a challenge, perhaps she should know that now. It is hardly fair to ask you to cater to him.’

And so I faced off against Lord Dar the next day. I was shaking as I walked out into the arena with the Kings and Queens watching me, and the Archen court and all the spectators. But Dar grinned as though we were friends, and laughed with delight when I threw aside my shield and drew my second sword. ‘A worthy opponent!’ He cried. ‘Come on then, let’s give them a show.’

So I did. I quickly learned that Dar was a bit slow on his feet, and although strong, not a very clever fighter. I beat him handily, and when I helped him to his feet he laughed again and clapped me on the back.

That evening at the banquet many people came to congratulate me on my win, warm words of praise without any barbs behind them. Prince Corin even bounded up to me and wrung my hand. ‘Hullo, I’m Prince Corin. Of Archenland. You were brilliant today! I’ve never seen fighting like that, with two swords. You’ll have to teach me. I mean—you will, won’t you?’

I blinked at him and managed to say ‘if your highness desires to learn—‘

’Then in a year or so, once you have your armour and are permitted to train as a knight, I am sure Lord Peridan will be glad to teach you.’ King Peter cut across me. He murmured to me sotto voce ‘If you agree now you will get far more than you bargained for. Trust me. I’ve tried to train him and had to give up. He is too hard headed.’

‘I heard that,’ Corin said.

‘Do you deny it?’ King Peter challenged, his hands on his hips.

‘Of course not,’ Corin declared, mimicking the High King’s stance.

‘I notice you have not claimed your dance from Susan yet,’ King Peter observed.

Corin blew air out of his cheeks and seemed to deflate as he did so: his shoulders slumped forward and the smile slid from his face. ‘No. That Rabadash is always hanging around her. It’s like he doesn’t want to let her go.’

For the briefest moment, I thought I saw a flash in King Peter’s eye. ‘Prince Rabadash does not outrank you,’ he observed. ‘You would still be well within your rights—and you know Susan is always loathe to deny you.’

‘I think she might this time,’ Corin grumbled.

‘Go and give it a try,’ King Peter said in a voice that was part command, part challenge, and part jest. He gave Corin a little push towards Susan, who was standing at the other end of the hall talking with Rabadash, her face tipped up to his.

Corin stumbled forward, pulling a face, but once he gained momentum he continued all the way to Susan. King Peter and I both stood watching as Corin strode up to them, some of his buoyant confidence returned. He levelled a gaze at Rabadash and wheedled Susan into a dance. Rabadash made a show of politeness to Susan and Corin’s faces, but when their backs were turned, he glowered. King Peter huffed through his nose.

‘I came over to say that was some very impressive fighting today. I’ve not known a man to double wield with such skill.’

‘Your Majesty honours me,’ I said.

‘Because you are worthy of honour,’ he said. ‘Edmund was right to let you compete. I would love to see you have the chance to show Rabadash what for.’

I raised my brows. ‘I would relish the chance myself,’ I dared to say.

‘I think all you will need is your skill.’ He watched Susan dancing with Corin. She was laughing and free. ‘Would that she would be so much herself with this suitor as she has in the past.’ He clapped me on the shoulder. ‘Aslan watch over your bouts and grant you strength.’ And then he went to talk to King Lune.

The final day of Rabadash’s visit found me in the arena, about to face off against the Calormene prince himself in the final bout. Even with the stands full, the crowd was quiet. Rabadash had kept everyone waiting so long that boredom had lulled the excitement and there was only the buzz of idle gossip. I started to feel a bit foolish standing alone in the middle of the arena in my glittering armour. No doubt this was part of his plan.

At last the sonorous moan of Calormene horns announced the prince’s arrival. The audience roused themselves to some polite applause, but he greeted this as though he were receiving an ovation. He strode up to me.

‘So,’ he said, his lip curling into a tiger’s smile. ‘We meet on the field at last, Lord Peridan.’

I made him a bow but said nothing. He snorted. We walked over to the Kings and Queens. Susan bestowed her favour on Rabadash, and he kissed her hand, all manners, but the glitter in his eyes said he would suck on her fingers. Edmund was watching with barely contained disgust. I swallowed a snicker. 

Queen Lucy leaned out of the royal box waving her favour. ‘You’ll wear mine, won’t you, Lord Peridan? We can’t have our Narnian champion carrying no favour.’

‘My queen, I would be honoured,’ I said, and went to take the favour from her. Rabadash glowered, but King Edmund gave the smallest of smiles.

We strode back to the centre of the ring together. I could smell the heavy musk of his perfume. So he wasn’t trying to blend in so much anymore. I kept my eyes fixed in front of me, ticking over a plan, trying to focus on strategy when my heart was hammering. This was the bout Susan wanted to avoid seeing. She was standing very still, as though she were a statue.

Rabadash and I faced each other. ‘I have waited for this moment,’ Rabadash said in a growling whisper. ‘Since I have been at court, everyone speaks your name in the next breath after my queen. But she is mine. Mine.’ He bared his teeth at me.

I blinked at him. I knew the words I should say. I knew that I should make this a true contest for the Queen’s hand: lay my claim to her, step up as a rival. But I couldn’t. The words stuck in my mouth. 

Rabadash drew his scimitar. ‘I will brook no rivals, especially not half castes.’ My eyebrows flicked upwards and he caught the brief expression of surprise. ‘You think I don’t know, but I see everything. I see that you have Calormene blood in you but try to masquerade as a Narnian. Tash will despise you for this, and your beloved Narnians will reject you.’ He punctuated this with an attack, so sudden it caught me off guard. He drove me back.

The best I could hope for was a solid defence, and I just about managed it. Rabadash had the strength for a long and varied attack, but at last he fell back. He growled. ‘Are you going to fight at all and scrape yourself some honour from clean battle? I will grind you into the dust either way.’

I tried to make myself think, give myself some sort of tactical approach, but my brain seemed to have stalled. Susan’s face came before me, her blue eyes soft and sparkling with expectation. A dozen times, ten times a dozen, she had turned to me with this expression. Rabadash’s suit should never have come this far. It should have been me, but it was not.

Rabadash drove me back again, and I only got out of that pass by ducking and running away. He roared and chased me down. He was swift and strong and clever. I could see how to defend against his attacks, but I couldn’t make myself move fast enough to do it.

As our weapons locked, he leaned close to me. ‘What son of a dog declines her? To see her is to want her. I will have her the instant she yields, and oh, I will make her yield. And there is you, who speaks not, does nothing. Only degenerate men behave so. You must be one of those faggots not to fight for your claim.’

I fumbled as he said the word, and he was on me, pressing his advantage. I tried to twist away and he hooked the tip of his scimitar in the gap in my armour, catching some of my scarred skin. I grunted in pain.

‘Poor, delicate boy. Have I hurt you?’ He twisted the scimitar, and as he pulled it away, sliced into the skin of my arm. I had not thought a mail shirt with sleeves necessary. I winced as the blade cut through my skin.

It wasn’t a deep wound, but it was enough to hurt when I moved. Enough to take me off top form and give Rabadash a clear advantage. He did not hesitate to press this, and he drove me back, unrelenting until he disarmed me and I had to yield. The triumph in his face reminded me of Uncle’s small nod when I lay in a crumpled heap after he beat me.

Rabadash leaned over me. ‘Coward or faggot, I care not. For I will triumph over you every time.’ Then he turned to accept the congratulations of the royals. I slunk out of the arena. Custom and manners dictated that I should have stayed and accepted my defeat with grace, but I couldn’t. Not after seeing Rabadash puff out his chest as he strode towards Susan.

I thought to go back to my rooms in the castle, but my arm pained me enough to go to the medical tent. I showed the faun attendant my wound and he sat me on a cot. He applied a stinging salve before bandaging the wound, and told me to stay there and rest. I leaned back and stewed in my own thoughts. I didn’t want Rabadash to be right. I tried to convince myself I loved Susan, that I too burned with desire for her. I conjured up images of being with her, lying with her, but all I felt was an odd detachment, a wistful wouldn’t-that-be-beautiful, but never believing it could be me.

‘So here you are. Not like you to not observe every rule of behaviour on the books, Lord Peridan, I must say.’

My eyes flew open. King Edmund and Queen Lucy were standing by my bedside. I made to get to my feet, but King Edmund put out a hand. ‘No need,’ he said. I nodded and slumped back, nursing my arm a bit.

‘You’re wounded!’ Queen Lucy exclaimed. She frowned. ‘That isn’t right. Not in a tournament for sport. Let me go and get my cordial.’

‘Your Majesty, no, I beg of you,’ I hurried to say. ‘A shallow wound such as mine does not merit the use of your precious cordial.’

She pursed her mouth. ‘If we start thinking like that, no wound will ever be worthy of healing.’

‘Even so. I have been well looked after, I assure you, and the wound will heal.’ I did not add that such an embarrassing loss did not deserve such a balm of grace.

Queen Lucy looked at her brother, who shrugged. She relented with a sigh and drew up a stool. ‘If it gets any worse though, I want your word that you will tell me and allow me to administer the cordial.’

I laid my hand over my heart and bowed my head in acknowledgement. 

Edmund perched on a chair as well. ‘You didn’t allow us to congratulate you, my lord.’

‘I didn’t see that there was much to congratulate,’ I frowned. ‘I lost.’

‘Still, you fought well. And getting to the final bout is no small feat,’ he said. ‘But I couldn’t help but notice that Rabadash seemed to rattle you.’

I stiffened and twisted my fingers in my lap.

‘Because here is the thing,’ Queen Lucy said, leaning forwards. ‘He rattles me too. And Edmund. But we can’t quite say why.’

‘I have never known my royal sister’s instincts to be wrong,’ King Edmund said with a nod at Queen Lucy. ‘And watching you face him, I gather that you feel the same as us.’

I had to let some of it out. Perhaps for Susan’s sake more than my own. ‘I do. Some would say it is jealousy, but I promise you that is not the case. It is...his teeth are too white.’

Queen Lucy burst out laughing. ‘Yes, that’s it exactly, isn’t it?’

‘How can that be it?’ King Edmund demanded.

‘He’s too perfect,’ Queen Lucy said.

‘It must be a facade he wants to polish if he puts that much work into appearing perfect. That cannot be who he really is,’ I supplied. ‘His manners are flawless in front of Queen Susan but when it was just the two of us he insulted me with base imprecations. He spies on members of the court, whispering in Calormene to his train. All trivial things, but still.’

King Edmund stroked his chin. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. But how came you to know what he said in Calormene?’

‘I speak it’ I replied.

He leaned back, surveying me. ‘Is this common in the Lone Islands?’

‘Not particularly. My mother was Calormene, and my Uncle who helped raise me. He taught me the language,’ I said. I wondered if they might question my loyalty.

‘I see.’ He rose and started to pace, taking measured steps with his hands clasped behind his back.

‘Edmund,’ said Queen Lucy, ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I am wondering whether to trust my instincts. They are not so finely honed as yours and I make better judgments after reflection.’

Queen Lucy tilted her head, frowning a bit. Then comprehension dawned and she turned back to me. ‘Surely, Lord Peridan, you can see where all of this between Rabadash and my sister is going.’

‘No doubt he wants to press his suit,’ I said. ‘Probably in Calormen. Narnia seems to sit ill with him and he would want the upper hand.’

‘Yes,’ said King Edmund. ‘Exactly so. He has already extended the invitation. And though Queen Susan has not yet said yes—‘

‘We can all tell she’s going to,’ Queen Lucy finished.

I clenched my jaw, unsure how I could feel apprehension and relief at the same time.

‘Meanwhile, King Peter rides north with the army to deal with the giants, which leaves me to play chaperone.’ He sighed and folded his arms.

‘And with Corin in your train as well,’ Queen Lucy reminded him.

‘Believe me, I have not forgotten,’ King Edmund said, rolling his eyes.

I sniggered behind my fist. He glanced at me and smiled. I thought I knew what he was implying, but surely he didn’t want me as part of the company. I tested this. ‘It seems to me that your Majesty needs someone who could provide intelligence,’ I ventured.

‘Just so,’ said King Edmund, meeting my eyes. ‘Someone who speaks the language would do well.’ He screwed up his mouth. ‘I will not conceal this is a dangerous and precarious task. And Susan will not like your attendance.’

‘I would say that’s all the more reason for him to go,’ said Queen Lucy. ‘For we may as well be plain—all of us here think this match a poor idea.’

‘It cannot come to good,’ I agreed. ‘Even if he was the most noble and gentle of men, a match between a crown prince and a sitting queen means that one nation must give up their ruler. It cannot be Narnia, but it won’t be Calormen.’

‘And that’s only the first problem,’ said King Edmund. ‘Lord Peridan, I would have you come with us. Your keen judgment is exactly what I need. But I will in no way force you, and you will lose no respect should you decline so dangerous a mission.’

I thought of my father, and all his speeches on nobility. ‘I could not turn away from such a duty,’ I said. ‘My service is yours, Sire, do with me what you will.’


	10. There Gloom the Dark, Broad Seas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We bid farewell to Cair Paravel and make the journey to Tashbaan.

The wind whipped round us, lashing our hair against our cheeks and fanning our cloaks out beside us as we stood assembled in the courtyard of Cair Paravel. 

King Peter was in his gleaming armour, and he made some commands to his generals, sweeping his arm in a broad gesture. The fact that he was not dwarfed even by centaurs showed his power. The centaurs shouted out their commands, and at once the milling soldiers snapped to attention and got into formation. Their well drilled moves and gleaming eyes inspired confidence in victory. Confidence, but not certainty.

King Peter climbed the steps to where we stood in an assembled group: Susan and King Edmund in travelling cloaks along with myself and Prince Corin and the rest of the small company bound for Tashbaan. Queen Lucy wore her court robes and wore a noble expression to match her eldest brothers. She lifted her chin as he nodded to her. Then he gave her a little smile and she flung himself into his arms.

‘Take care, take very good care, take the best of care,’ she murmured as she hugged him, armour and all. ‘And write.’

‘You too, Lu,’ King Peter said, stroking her hair fondly. He kissed her brow. Then he turned to his other sister. ‘Is this the last time you will sing me off?’

‘Never, Peter! How can you say such a thing? I’ll always be here to sing you off,’ Susan said, her voice almost sharp with reproach.

King Peter exchanged a look with his brother, and in it I read that King Edmund needed to school Susan on the realities of a marriage to the crown prince of another land. Edmund exhaled heavily through his nose. After King Peter embraced Susan, he came and clasped King Edmund’s forearm.

‘You know the duty I charge you with,’ King Peter said.

‘I know,’ King Edmund replied. They shared a long look, then Peter turned and clattered down the steps and mounted his horse.

The army rode off with clatters and jangles, their armour bright in the diffused light from the clouds. Susan stood at the top of the steps flanked by King Edmund and Queen Lucy, and she sang the while the column filed through the gate. After the rear guard passed through, the portcullis lowered with a clang.

Susan sighed shakily and wrapped her arms around herself, watching the army filing down the road. Above Cair Paravel’s tallest tower, the High King’s red banner with the golden sword came down to show his absence. Soon King Edmund’s yellow banner with the broken wand and Susan’s green one emblazoned with the horn would follow within the hour.

‘Come on,’ said King Edmund, tugging on Susan’s elbow gently. ‘The captain’ll want to be off with these winds.’

Susan wiped her eyes with the crook of her finger, sniffed and nodded. We walked round the side of the castle and proceeded through the sea door and down to the quay where the Splendour Hyaline lay in wait, her purple sails puffed with the breeze, straining against her stays and glittering in the morning sun.

Corin bid farewell to Queen Lucy first, and he tried to look somber on her behalf but failed miserably. She had only just let him go when he gave a whoop and tore up the gangway, shouting from the deck, ‘I’ll bring you your heart’s desire back from Tashbaan!’

‘You’d better!’ Queen Lucy shouted back before she turned to Susan. She pressed her lips together and twisted her fingers, trying hard to look decorous and queenly. She gave it up in the end though and threw her arms around her sister. ‘Whatever happens,’ she said in a choking voice, ‘Remember that your home is here.’

‘Honestly, Lucy, you’re being ridiculous,’ Susan said. ‘Of course I know that.’

Queen Lucy gave her sister one more kiss, and then Susan followed Corin onto the ship. Lucy looked to King Edmund. ‘You know what I meant.’

‘I know,’ he assured her.

‘We’ve not been apart like this before. Don’t let it last. You must bring her home.’ She gripped her brother’s hands.

‘I’ll do all I can,’ King Edmund promised.

‘Bring her home,’ Lucy repeated. Then she hugged him and kissed his cheek. ‘And yourself too.’

‘Make sure the castle stays in one piece, eh? I’d like to have a home to come back to,’ he returned, chucking her gently on the shoulder. She smiled thinly.

A messenger came and said the captain was ready, and then we were going up the gangway too. Edmund stood at the railing to wave goodbye to Queen Lucy; Corin and I stood between him and Susan.

‘She has free choice. Bring her home. You’d think they could make up their bloody minds,’ King Edmund muttered mutinously. He frowned. ‘Make yourself ready, my lord. I have a feeling adventure awaits.’

‘You say that as though it’s a bad thing,’ I observed. ‘My father spent his whole life longing for adventure.’

‘That’s how you know he never had one. Because in all my wide experience, adventures are far better in the telling than in the living.’

Susan did not speak to me while we were on board. She swept past me with cold looks and when forced to commune with me, she did so in the most remote way possible.

One afternoon she stalked past as I was playing chess with Tumnus. I twirled my piece in the air, following her with my eyes. Then I sighed and turned back to the game, planting my piece and folding my arms on the table.

‘I don’t suppose you have any questions about why she’s upset,’ Tumnus said.

I shook my head. ‘It’s fairly obvious. She doesn’t want me here. I imagine she thinks I am out to thwart her courtship.’

‘Are you?’ Asked Tumnus.

‘If I am, it’s not for the reasons she might imagine.’ I rubbed my mouth. ‘At present, however, I am on a fact finding mission above all. So much King Edmund has charged me with.’

‘He fought for you to come, you know,’ Tumnus said.

‘Did he?’ I could not restrain my surprise.

‘Mm,’ he said as he surveyed the chess board. I didn’t want to tell him that he was losing rather badly. ‘Queen Susan flat out refused when she heard you were to said with our company, but King Edmund insisted. Said you were a valuable addition. It all got rather heated and in the end, King Edmund won out by saying he refused to go without you. Once Queen Lucy backed him up, the High King decreed it, and Queen Susan had not choice but to accept.’

My cheeks grew warm. ‘I didn’t know I was worth so much strife,’ I confessed.

Tumnus frowned a bit and rested the pad of his finger on the tip of the bishop before moving to the castle. He took the knight I had left as a trap. Then he turned to me. ‘The Kings and Queens often see more in us than we see in ourselves.’

At that moment King Edmund strolled by and scanned the board. He chuckled. ‘You’re playing a losing game, I’m afraid, Tumnus. He’ll have you in checkmate in less than ten moves.’

‘Where? How?’ Demanded Corin, peering over King Edmund’s shoulder.

‘Watch and see,’ said King Edmund, and though Tumnus made a valiant effort he had to yield in eight.

‘That’s quite enough for me to know that I am outmatched,’ Tumnus declared, rising.

King Edmund took his place at once. He called for his chess set and rubbed his hands. ‘Excellent. A proper match at last.’

‘It won’t be, because you beat everyone,’ Corin drawled with a roll of his eyes. Despite this, he drew up a stool to watch.

‘You mean I beat you,’ King Edmund corrected as the ordinary board was cleared and he started to set up his famous chess set with the dwarf wrought pieces in solid gold and silver. I picked up the queen and marvelled at the detail.

He whistled to get my attention. ‘Lord Peridan, there’s a game beginning lest you forget.’

I wrinkled my nose and began to set up properly.

The game was rather exciting as chess goes, swinging back and forth between me and King Edmund. I enjoyed the challenge of playing him and balancing my offence against my defence. He grew sharper and more focused as the game went on, leaning forward and scanning the board, his lips moving as he calculated. His interest drew the attention of the other lords, who started to offer their own strategies to me. I ignored them, however, and ultimately planted my knight to announce ‘Check mate.’

King Edmund did a double take. When he saw this was true, he gaped, and then he laughed. ‘Good game indeed,’ he declared. Then he started setting up for a rematch at once. ‘Of course, I can’t let that stand and must demand satisfaction.’

‘If you think you’ll get it,’ I quipped without thinking. The unease of the assembled lords made me curse my daring the next moment.

But Edmund laughed, wagging his finger. ‘Those are dangerous words, my good lord. You have yet to see my competitive side.’

And so we started playing chess almost all day, every day. There is little else to do on board ship, and so almost as soon as we finished breakfast, Edmund would collect his chess set and approach me with lifted brows. Of course I assented, and not only because I wanted to pass the time. Playing with him was fun. Because he seemed to think the same, I once again had the feeling that we could be friends. 

As a testament to his boredom, Corin watched most of our games and started a tally of who won more. Edmund and I were always within a couple games of each other.

‘I don’t get it,’ Corin announced as he watched us, his chin on his stacked fists. ‘What’s so exciting about chess? I’d rather be practicing swordplay. Lord Peridan, you should teach me to double wield!’ He brightened, evidently hoping this offer would make me turn away from the game.

‘Perhaps later,’ I said vaguely as I thought through a strategy.

‘Or perhaps you can engage a sword master and let us play,’ Edmund said, glancing at Corin. Then he turned his eyes back to the board, scanning it twice over.

Corin sighed, buzzing his lips. ‘Why do you always play chess though?’

‘It is the cousin of swordplay,’ I said, quoting my teachers. ‘Chess teaches strategy, using and adapting a series of moves.’

‘A good chess player is a worth ally,’ Edmund added. ‘One who can see all ends.’

‘Think on his feet,’ I supplied.

‘Understand there is more to winning a battle than brute strength,’ Edmund rejoined. He frowned. ‘Are you sure you didn’t move the pieces while I was talking to Susan just now?’

‘I call the prince to witness,’ I said, indicating Corin. 

‘He didn’t move anything,’ Corin said.

‘You see? You were losing all on your own steam,’ I said coolly, sitting back and folding my arms.

Edmund stared at me, and for a flash of a moment I was worried I had overstepped. But his face split into a grin and he laughed. ‘We’ll see about that. I’ve gotten myself out of worse spots before.’ He punctuated this with a wink.

It was nothing—a wink of camaraderie. But it sent a shiver all the way down my spine. Edmund flicked a lock of hair out of his eyes with an impatient movement of his fingers, and I gasped silently as the trickle down my spine pooled in my gut. I could not deny it—I desired the King. This was the feeling I had been searching for with Susan and never caught. 

I managed to get through the rest of the day in royal company, but that night I slipped onto the deck and paced the length of it over and over. I told myself that I was lonely. It was like a trick of the light, a mirage. I had been without any sort of feeling for so long something inside of me was grasping at straws. Yes. That was it. Better that than ruining all, including my blossoming friendship with the King. I had already destroyed the warmth of Queen Susan’s acceptance. I could risk no more.

But Orran had been right—I could not change myself. When at last I fell into a fitful sleep I dreamed of him. He invited me to his stateroom for a drink, and once there, I leaned forward and kissed his neck. He didn’t kiss me back, but he tipped his head back and sighed and he shifted to make things easier for me. Then he let me do what I wanted and I ravished him with kisses, tasting every inch of his body. I woke in the small hours, drenched in sweat and with sodden bedsheets. I curled up into a ball, shuddering because the dream had been so good.

Once I knew how I felt, I could not close the floodgates. I memorised his face with surreptitious glances. I studied the way he twirled his chess pieces. I had always found him fascinating, but now I realised I found him beautiful too. Desire is a staggering force, something that threatens to wash over you until you drown in it. And yet I wanted to drown.

I was starting to terrify myself. Part of me wanted to him to catch my eye when I was studying him and understand. In fleeting moments, I let myself dream that he might welcome my admiration. The next moment though, I shook myself with the truth. More likely, far more likely, than him welcoming my desire would be public shame, imprisonment, exile.

I hid a bit, spending a good amount of time teaching Corin to double wield despite Peter’s warnings. This was so exhausting I could face Edmund more easily afterward. But if I encountered him earlier in the day and he trapped me in a game of chess, concealing my feelings required much more concentration. Yet when we parted ways I felt deflated.

Thus I was both relieved and disappointed when in the middle of a chess game with Edmund the man from the fighting top shouted that Tashbaan was in sight. We all crowded at the starboard side to see the city that called itself the wonder of all wonders.

We were coming into the mouth of the river, and everywhere we looked was inhabited land, crowded with the houses of the rich and the wealthy along the shores. I marvelled at the skill of the helmsman, for the river mouth was clogged with all manner of vessels—trading ships from elsewhere in Calormen and a few vessels with crests I knew from the Lone Islands, and junks and pleasure boats and fishing boats and even a couple of war ships, although I noticed that the Splendour Hyaline was a far grander vessel than any we passed. True, she was the Narnian flagship, but a dozen more Narnian ships were bigger and mightier than what we saw in the river that day.

Dwarfing all of this, however, was Tashbaan, rising to its dizzying heights. I had never seen a city to equal it in size. Despite its quick growth, Lionshaim was a tiny hamlet in comparison. Even the old streets of Narrowhaven did not amass to one tenth of the size of Tashbaan. It was a mass of buildings and people, and thus easy to see why people from there thought they were at the centre of the world. Everywhere else must have seemed blank and empty in comparison. Narrowhaven was all whitewashed buildings, a few with tiled mosaics, some with blue or terra cotta roofs, and the uniformity gave it a sense of peace. Tashbaan was built in stones of all hues of white (mostly on the upper levels) and brown clay and yellow sandstone and grey granite. It was a riot of colour and chaos.

‘Behold your future kingdom,’ King Edmund said to Queen Susan. But though his words were sardonic, his voice was not. He spoke in quieter tones than I was used to hearing him employ.


	11. Cities of Men and Manners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are welcomed in Tashbaan--and quickly see behind the veil.

There was much fanfare when the Splendour Hyaline put in at port. I thought the Lone Islanders hadn’t done half as well as the Calormenes when we welcomed the Kings and Queens to Narrowhaven. Jugglers and dancers and all manner of nobles in multi-coloured robes danced at the quayside. Rabadash sat on a gilded makeshift throne under an embroidered canopy, and two servants rolled a purple carpet from Rabadash’s seat up the gangway of the ship.

‘They have an awful lot of servants,’ Corin observed. ‘I imagine each one has only a single task.’

‘They’re not servants, they’re slaves,’ I said. Susan, Edmund and Corin all stared at me.

‘Slaves?’ Susan repeated, her eyes troubled.

‘How many are there, do you think?’ Edmund asked.

‘In all of Calormen?’ I shrugged. ‘Thousands. Tens of thousands. It is the mark of each Tarkaan’s wealth to have as many slaves for as many tasks as possible. Some treat them well enough, because they are expensive. Others feel they have money to waste.’ The other three all shuddered. I wondered that they did not know this. Island nobles spent much time distinguishing themselves from Calormenes by having servants who were paid and treated well, and for all the pomp of the Council of Lords, the one thing they managed to do was keep a slave trade from cropping up in the Islands. Everyone on Avra, Doorn, and Felimath knew how the Calormenes treated the poorest members of their society. I had the feeling Susan was in for an education of what might become her future country.

As we disembarked we saw that although the welcome was lavish, it was also joyless. Only Rabadash seemed happy; he had the half closed eyes and lazy smile of a tiger about to devour its prey. When Susan reached the bottom of the gangway, he sprang up and came to her, and with many flourishes bowed and kissed her hand.

‘O most beauteous Queen, pearl of the North and diamond of the seas, welcome to Calormen. Here may you find all that brings you and your courtiers joy, for this city is a wonder of the world where you will find it impossible to want for anything.’

‘I bet those slaves want for something,’ muttered Corin.

‘Peace, your Highness,’ I whispered. Corin looked at me sidewise, his mouth pursed in doubt, but he kept his mouth shut. 

Rabadash turned then to greet each of us in turn. He made a rather obsequious bow to Edmund, but looked Corin in the eye. Clearly he was waiting for Corin to bow first, but Corin, a crown prince himself, was having none of it. He merely waited Rabadash out, smiling all the while. I wanted to laugh and had to press my lips together from smiling.

In the end, Corin won, I think perhaps because Rabadash still had a passing interest in making a good impression, and Susan was staring at them both. Corin had far less at stake, for he had been lectured by Susan a score of times on that journey alone.

Rabadash then turned to me. ‘Welcome to Calormen, Lord Peridan. Such a pleasant surprise to have you here.’ I bowed, and I noticed he did not. Instead he said over me in a low whisper, speaking in Calormene, ‘You are a bold man to come to this city. Don’t you know what I can do to you here? You think you can still vie for your Queen’s hand, but she is mine now. I showed you mercy when we duelled in Narnia, but here I will grind you underfoot like dust. You would do well to keep your eyes open, half-caste.’

I raised my head when he stopped talking, and he flashed me a smile which showed the whiteness and the sharpness of his teeth. I saw from his face he did not expect me to have understood, so I pasted on a false, blank smile though my heart was hammering.

They had a litter ready for Susan, and though she did not like the look of it at all, she got in. There was one for Edmund as well, but he protested, saying ‘I greatly desire to see this magnificent city with my own eyes and would hate to miss a moment of this opportunity,’ which I thought was very well played. I could not help but gravitate toward him as we walked. Tumnus and Sallowpad shrank into the midst of our group, away from the gawping of the Calormenes who had not seen Talking Beasts before. 

Our path had been cleared and cleaned, but the filth and the misery of the lower tiers was hard not to see. Even Corin sheltered himself between me and Edmund. For his part, Edmund’s eyes swept over everything, narrowing in their examination of Tashbaan. All the while the crier intoned ‘Way, way, way! Way for the white barbarian king and queen. Way for the Narnians’ and people threw themselves out of the way and pressed against the buildings, leaving us a wide berth. The faces in the crowd were as haggard, dirty, and gaunt as they were curious. I tried to gauge what Susan’s reaction was, but her litter was very close to Rabadash’s, and I did not dare go closer.

As we got to the more genteel parts of the city though, the dirt and misery seemed to dissolve. The markets offered glittering trinkets and scintillating scents, and the people had rounder faces and more colourful clothes. Beyond the markets and the middle class were the topmost tiers of the city, and here the rabbit warren streets opened up into broad avenues with mosaic plazas showcasing grand statues. Here we could almost forget the dirt below us, and even I found myself looking everywhere to absorb all the details—the carved lacework of the window shutters, the mosaics over every door and archway in glittering stones. Corin started to break away and had to be called back several times by Susan and Edmund. Eventually Susan made the prince ride with her in the litter. I watched Rabadash’s reaction closely, but all I could see was his back stiffen, although he did speak with the prince.

Our lodgings were near the very top of the city, down a quiet alley far from the noise and the dust. Two cypress tress flanked the arched entryway, which was inlaid with a glass mosaic. The hallways were cool and shady, the rooms hung with breezy silks. Golden salvers were jewelled with perfect fruit. The fountain in the green and manicured courtyard tinkled invitingly and the fruit trees and roses and climbing jasmine wrapped me in the scent of sensuality the moment I stepped into it. I searched for a flaw in the facade, but I could not find one beyond the Prince’s whispered words.

The next afternoon we attended a river party. Rabadash had arranged it so that he and Susan had a boat all to themselves. I tried to discern how she felt about this, and I couldn’t decide as I squinted at her. She slipped her hand into Rabadash’s and let him draw her onto the boat with him. Two cushioned chairs sat as thrones under a canopy held up by four slaves who stood perfectly still. Susan cast a sympathetic glance at the slaves, but when Rabadash started to chastise them, she turned her full attention to him and assured him that she had only been distracted. They sat beside each other and he took her hand as he pointed out the sights to her, tracing patterns on her palm.

‘You observe your queen narrowly,’ a wheezing voice said beside me. I did a double take, thinking I heard Uncle’s voice, but turned to see Ahoshta Tarkaan, the newly appointed Grand Vizier. I wondered at how long his path must have been and how much of himself he had sold to reach his position at such a late age.

‘As is natural during any courtship of such import, to be sure,’ I said coolly.

‘Mm,’ he intoned, folding his hands into his sleeves in an effort to appear sagacious. ‘But the poets have also said “A man in love has the eyes of an eagle”.’

‘One does not need eagle eyes to see the Queen and Prince’s regard for each other,’ I replied, nodding to where Rabadash and Susan sat together.

He hmm’d again and proceeded onto his pleasure barge. I watched after him, narrowing my eyes. Someone plucked my elbow; I turned and saw it was Edmund.

He had pasted on an odd smile. ‘I hope you are looking forward to this view of the mighty city as I, Lord Peridan,’ he declared in a clear voice so that people might hear. He raised his brows significantly.

‘Naturally, your Majesty, for I have never seen such a wonder as Tashbaan,’ I answered in the same tone.

‘Have you seen this vista? Come, let me show you,’ Edmund said, and he drew me a little ways away. As he gestured to the city above us, he leaned his head close to mine and murmured. ’So. I am to begin negotiations with the Grand Vizier. I am hoping to be somewhat non-committal. That means, however, that the two principle members of the court will be thoroughly distracted. Keep a sharp ear out while you can. After what we saw yesterday I want to know more.’

I forced myself to concentrate on what he was saying, not the thrill of his whisper in my ear and that his words were only meant for me. They were, after all, words of conspiracy and not of desire. ‘Yes, of course, Sire,’ I replied.

‘Unfortunately your task will not be easy—I must leave Prince Corin in your charge as well.’ He cast a glance at where Corin was bent over peering into the water of the river and looking as though he might dive in. ‘And he is probably the least subtle human in all this wide world.’

‘Perhaps that provides an even better cover,’ I suggested.

Edmund gave me a sly smile. ‘This, my good lord, is exactly why I wanted you to come.’ He clapped me on the shoulder and then went to ask Ahoshta a question about what we had just been looking at. I watched after him, raising my fingers to my shoulder where my skin tingled. That was the first time he had touched me.

But there wasn’t time to moon over this. I drew Corin away from the water’s edge and found he had indeed been contemplating a swim. ‘It’s so hot and dusty,’ he complained. The only way I could deter him was to point out the waste floating in the river, at which he wrinkled his nose.

‘Why is it so dirty?’ He asked as we climbed aboard. I shushed him as I steered him towards the back of the barge, towards a group of Tarkheenas but not too close to them.

‘We must be good guests and not criticise. They think much of their wonders,’ I said. ‘But to answer your question, when humans are pressed so close together in such great numbers, they produce grandeur and garbage in equal volumes.’ I squinted up at the city looming above us and thought of Lionshaim. ‘That is why humans should not settle together so. The best in us is tempered by the worst.’

Corin gave me a dubious look. ‘You’re like Edmund—you spend far too much time thinking.’

I smiled and offered him a glass of sherbert.

The husbands of the Tarkheenas near us had repaired to the other end of the barge to drink and gamble. I knew their conversation would be all jibes and bets—no use to me. I settled us instead near the women, who were gossiping happily, led by a giggling Tarkheena in the middle of the group. I remembered her from the welcome ball as Lasaraleen.

‘I mean, I really don’t see why everyone fusses so over the Barbarian Queen. Do you know, I heard that she was supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the world! Seeing her myself, I find that hard to believe, don’t you? She doesn’t even know how to dress!’ She tittered, and Corin scowled and made to get up. I pushed him back down into his seat and gestured for him to be still. He frowned, but I only repeated the gesture.

She started to run down a catalogue of Susan’s outfits, none of which she had a favourable opinion of. To his credit, Corin consigned himself to muttering, ‘Well, truly beautiful women like Susan and Lucy don’t need to ornament themselves like peacocks.’

There was some general lamenting from all that handsome Prince Rabadash was in love with a Northern woman and ‘breaking the heart of every Calormene maid.’ ‘Think of all those wasted offerings to Zardeenah!’ Corin rolled his eyes, but I distracted him with a plate of desserts just as Lasaraleen was saying. ‘The Narnian Queen may not be much, but the Narnian men are something though, aren’t they?’ The others tittered.

‘You really do want to watch out, Las,’ one of the other girls said. ‘You know why Dilara’s not here tonight, don’t you?’

‘No—why?’ She gasped, leaning forward.

The girl who had brought it up tossed her hair over her shoulder and preened with the power of having the gossip. ‘I heard her husband caught her looking at the Narnian king and beat her for it.’

Everyone gasped and muttered expressions of sympathy. But Lasaraleen added ‘Really, she ought to know better how to manage her husband. We all know that you do these things in private, not in front of them. How do you think I’ve navigated my marriage?’ She laughed brashly before continuing ‘I’ve seen Dilara openly defy her husband before, and I knew it would come to no good.’

‘The Northern Barbarians proudly consider themselves free,’ the other continued continued. ‘I wonder how their queen will take to a Calormene marriage. I don’t expect Rabadash will be having any of that nonsense talk about equality.’

‘My brother went to Narnia and he said the other queen is so “free” she is practically wild. He said she rides horses astride like a man! She sounds like Aravis Tarkheena.’

They exclaimed their dismay against northern ways and Queen Lucy’s daring. I wanted to stay and hear more, but Corin was looking like a thundercloud ready to let loose a deluge, so I drew him away to the prow of the boat, although the laughter of the women still carried on the air.

He paced up and down, stalking with heavy footfalls. ‘She’s already married. That girl. Lasaraleen,’ he said, his eyes wide. ‘She can’t be old her than me. And she was talking about husbands beating wives like she expected it to happen.’

I pressed my lips together.

Corin glowered at where Rabadash had leaned over to point something out to Susan, murmuring in her ear. I pushed the memory of Edmund murmuring in my own ear down. ‘He plays nice now, but I don’t think he’d be any different,’ Corin said. ‘He acts like everything in the world belongs to him, but Father says we are only kings by grace and we should be humbled by that.’ He turned to me, his brows lowered and his brown eyes dancing with fear. ‘What if he’s horrible to Susan?’

‘I know,’ I murmured.

‘So don’t you want to do anything? Don’t you care?’

I twisted my arm round to feel my back. Through the thin fabric of my summer tunic I could feel the old scars. ‘I do.’

‘Well?’ Corin demanded.

‘And what am I to do, shout across the water?’ I returned.

‘You’re just scared,’ he challenged.

‘Sometimes a modicum of caution is useful,’ I replied. This did not satisfy Corin, and he himself moved to call out to Susan. I snatched his arm‘Wait. Let us not act here—it would be most unseemly, and more importantly it will not do anything to convince her.’ I thought fast, trying to appease the prince and see a way forward. ‘King Edmund may be able to talk Queen Susan round better than I—or even you.’

‘Alright, so you’ll talk to him then.’

‘Only if you swear to me you won’t say anything to Susan before I do.’

Corin frowned a moment, then stuck out his hand for me to shake. 

That evening our hosts provided separate entertainment for the men and women. Where Susan and her ladies went off to I knew not, but Edmund led our party to a grand hall hung with silks and laid with cushions, arranged as a sort of amphitheater. Apart from Rabadash and Edmund (the Tisroc did not attend), who sat on gilded, cushioned chairs, the highest ranking members of the court were seated on the lowest tier. This led me to believe we were in for some sort of spectacle, and I was right. After the hall had filled, the low, rumbling whispers of a room full of men died away, and a musician began to play on a whining pipe. A dozen veiled girls stepped from behind a curtain to the cheers and catcalls of the Calormene men and began to dance.

I soon understood why this entertainment was for men only. The women had their faces and hair modestly veiled, but their midriffs were bare well below the navel and their cleavage was on full display. The lead dancer had on no top at all, just a series of gold chains draped over her bare breasts. The fabric of their skirts was so thin it was practically transparent, leaving nothing to the imagination. They danced with grace and fluid movements, but nobody was watching their dancing. Sitting close to the front as I was, I could see their eyes and the desultory expression. The leers of the men seemed to bore them more than anything, and that I found most troubling of all. I folded my arms over myself and wished for it all to be over. I didn’t know where to look.

‘So, Lord—Peridan, is it?’ A high voice whined in my air. ‘What do you make of the Dance of the Scarves?’

I knew before I turned that it was Ahoshta. ‘They have considerable skill,’ I remarked as one woman bent over backward to catch the scarf she had tossed in the air.

‘Skill, ha!’ cried Ahoshta. ‘That is not what most men choose to focus on.’

I sat with a forced smile pasted on my face, rather wishing I could wear a veil myself.

‘These exquisite beauties are from Prince Rabadash’s own harem. We are lucky to see them for ourselves,’ Ahoshta continued. I nodded, thinking grimly of what Rabadash might do when he had private viewings, and what Susan might think of his husband owning a troupe of slave girls for his own pleasure. I wondered why Ahoshta would even tell me this. Having risen to such a lofty position, he could not be a stupid man who would let a single word slip.

‘Tash has blessed me with a young and lovely bride in Aravis Tarkheena,’ he replied to the Tartan. I recalled Lasaraleen mentioning the same name and the other night, as though they were peers, which would mean that Aravis was likely engaged to a man four times her own age.

Ahoshta turned back to me after his brief conversation. ‘Apologies, your Lordship,’ he said. I stammered out some congratulations, and he smiled, making his face more wizened and showing yellow teeth.

He settled back in his seat, leering at the dancers. After a moment, he said casually, ‘The Prince told me there was one of mixed blood in the Northern company, but I could hardly believe it until I saw you. To be of mixed blood is a very rare thing indeed, especially before the Thaw of Narnia.’

‘I grew up in the Lone Islands,’ I said. ‘It is somewhat more common there.’ This wasn’t exactly true, but I doubted Ahoshta could know that.

‘The Lone Islands,’ he mused. ‘There was a girl from my village who ran off to the Lone Islands. She was betrothed and trying to escape the marriage—it brought great shame on her family. She stole away with her brother on a ship bound for Narrowhaven...what were their names...ah yes, Laureliana and Emdir. I heard she ended up marrying an Islander.’ He chuckled. ‘Funny to remember that now—it was so long ago. You must indulge an old man in his stories. I’m sure you’ve never heard of these people.’ And his watery eyes fixed me with a keen stare. I feigned ignorance with a thin laugh and turned the subject back to Ahoshta’s engagement. He described at great length how he longed to subdue his young and headstrong bride, and this topic carried us to the end of the dance.

That night I could not sleep. I went down to the quiet courtyard to pace out my restless thoughts. I plucked an apricot from a tree in the orchard and sank onto a bench. I tossed the apricot between my hands. Then I covered my face with my hand and let the other holding the fruit dangle between my knees. A whispered threat from Rabadash, the slaves, the dancing women, Ahoshta’s strangely specific knowledge…it all added up to something, and each possibility unsettled me more than the last.


	12. Know Not Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'It was a wonder to me that ever you could find it in your heart to show Rabadash so much favour.'

The next morning Susan went on an outing with Rabadash. Edmund stayed behind at her request, Corin was deemed too young to attend, and she expressly forbade me from going, taking Tumnus and some of the other lords as her chaperones instead. When they had departed in the middle of the morning, I went to Corin. ‘I’m going to speak to the king now. Come with me.’

Corin’s eyes widened and he scurried to fall into step beside me. ‘I thought you weren’t going to.’

I glanced at him. ‘I gave my word, didn’t I?’ We reached the king’s door and I knocked.

We found Edmund lying on a couch holding a glass of iced sherbert to his forehead. ‘I’m not getting up,’ he declared. ‘It’s too bloody hot, and I’ve had enough of manners.’

‘I thought you were a natural diplomat,’ I observed.

‘Nobody is a natural at this non-stop,’ he replied. ‘Anyway, you two look like you have something to say. Else you would not have interrupted my repose.’ He took a swig of sherbert and put the glass back to his forehead.

‘I am afraid we are going to put an end to your rest,’ I said sombrely. I told Edmund all that had passed, from Rabadash’s threats to Lasaraleen’s gossip to Ahoshta’s information. By the end, Edmund was sitting up and frowning.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘This at least explains why I have been feeling so uneasy these past days.’ He looked into his glass, swilling its contents.

‘So we’re going to get out of here,’ Corin said. ‘We should tell Susan and leave tonight.’

‘Not so fast, Corin,’ Edmund said.

Corin groaned. ‘Not you too!’

‘I have counselled the Prince to watch and wait—this was very much not to his liking,’ I explained.

‘It was nevertheless wise,’ Edmund said. He rose and started to pace, his hands behind his back. ‘Herein lies the problem. We are all agreed—we do not like Rabadash for fear that he would enforce an oppressive marriage on Susan. But if we storm over to her and demand she refuse his suit and leave, that undermines her will just as well. She must make the choice. We cannot coerce her, however good our intentions. If we did, Susan would never forget that we robbed her of her free will and Lucy would have my head. She wants Susan back, but she wants Susan to want to come back.’

Corin laughed at this. ‘You might be right about that.’

‘I know my sisters,’ said Edmund with a sigh.

‘So what do we do then?’ Corin demanded. ‘We’ve got to do something! Rabadash is pulling the wool over her eyes right now!’

Edmund paced for a few moments, rubbing his chin. ‘Information,’ he said at last. ‘The more we can show to Susan, the more she will be able to reach her own conclusions.’

Corin started thinking aloud, crazy espionage plans that involved disguises and sneaking in to listen to the Tisroc’s private counsels with his son. I fretted my lips together, letting the noise of his voice fade into the background. After a few minutes thinking, I snapped my fingers. Edmund turned to me immediately.

‘The bath houses,’ I said. ‘Men go to the bath houses for relaxation, and they talk. It’s how it has always been in the Lone Islands, and I would imagine even moreso here.’

‘Surely they won’t speak in front of us though,’ Edmund said.

‘They might—in Calormene,’ I replied.

He grinned and rubbed his hands together. ‘If only we had someone in our party who understood the language but they did not know.’

‘Peridan does!’ Corin cried, as though he’d just hit upon the solution. I bit back a smile. Edmund patted his shoulder.

‘Are you sure comfortable with this, Lord Peridan? Spying and eavesdropping are not generally within the realms of propriety.’ His voice was teasing, but his eyes searched mine.

‘I vowed to be of use to your Majesties, and to Narnia,’ I said. 

Edmund nodded. ‘Corin, go get ready. We’ll send word of our curiosity to see the famous Calormene bath houses and leave as soon as we can.’

Corin scurried off and Edmund rang for a servant. Before they got there, he gripped my arm. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about Rabadash’s threat sooner?’ 

I hesitated. I did not quite know what had prevented me from telling Edmund, apart from the fact that I always kept my troubles to myself.

‘Do not forget, my lord, that your life is my responsibility in this mad venture. I would not have anything happen to you, or any Narnian here.’ He looked into my eyes. No one had preoccupied themselves with my well being for a long time.

Corin was fascinated with the workings of the baths, and jumped from steam room to thermal pool only to drench himself in buckets of ice water and do it all again. His enthusiasm provided a good cover, as we seemed to be amusing a restive prince. Edmund and I sat together in the steam baths with a few Tarkaans. They made bland and pleasant small talk to us, but in Calormene they said much more. Rabadash was talking to his courtiers as though Susan was already his but his father was counselling prudence, and his mother and Ahoshta wondered what it might mean for Calormen if there were Barbarian blood mixed into the royal bloodline descended in a right line from the god Tash. When they left our steam room, I translated all of this for Edmund.

But I had to whisper in his ear to do it, and our knees touched, and through the curling steam I could see the dark hairs on his chest, tracing a path down to his navel, below his towel, and the taut muscles of his body, and I thought this so beautiful it was painful. Every time I thought I had suppressed my desire for him, it came rising back. I closed my eyes and willed myself to think of the danger Susan was in rather than Edmund so close.

Edmund leaned his head back against the wall. ‘We certainly know enough now. The question is how to make Susan best see the truth.’

I tried to think of a solution, but I kept fantasising about us reaching out and finding each other, of him taking me on the slick floor, doing things I only half knew about. Eventually I had to go for a swim and douse myself with the bucket of cold water.

We left in silence. The city was quiet with many taking their midday rest, and we did not dare speak anything aloud in the open street. The scream that rent the air of the city in the sleepy mid-afternoon jarred us. Edmund and I both reached for swords which were not there, and he muttered something about not going out unarmed again.

A crier led the way, but when people saw his livery they scattered before him. He was dressed in black robes and carrying a staff with an effigy of Tash on top. Behind him were two armed guards who bore between them a man who was screaming and crying, trying to resist with every step.

‘Way!’ the crier intoned. ‘Way, way, way for he who Tash has cursed and rejected. Way for the dead.’

Hearing this, the man sobbed. ‘Where is the justice? Tell me what I have done.’

‘You know what you’ve done, filth,’ said one of the guards, and spat in his face. Edmund and I both jumped.

‘Faggot,’ the other guard muttered. ‘Half man. A clean death is too good for you.’ I gasped, understanding what his crime was.

‘I am a Tarkaan!’ He cried. ‘You can’t do this to me!’

The crier stopped, and turned to him. ‘We do nothing. This is the justice of Tash. You have perverted his will, and for that blasphemy, you will die.’

The man sobbed then, and hung his head, seeming to give up. All at once though, he tore away from the guards and ran to us, casting himself at our feet, really at my feet. I recoiled.

‘Northerners! Save me! Grant me refuge with your king who is even now in the city. Mercy—I cry of you mercy! They will kill me—all because I loved a man.’

Before he could say anymore, the guards dragged him to his feet and pulled him away. I stared after him, unable to move. Finally Edmund touched my arm to get me going. I followed him in a daze back to our lodging, and I turned my head often, looking in the direction they dragged the man off in, straining to hear him. The street was silent. I thought of breaking away to find him, but just as I tensed myself to make the first move, I would think ‘Then what?’ And indeed what could I, one lone foreigner, do against the laws of Calormen? 

None of us spoke when we got back to the house, and we all went to our separate rooms. I cast myself onto my bed and drew hasty, heavy lined sketches of the man’s eyes, so wide-eyed with fear. I saw in them my own reflection. I knew that fear—at least in part. I remembered Uncle Emdir beating me, and I wondered if this was why he thought he was showing me mercy. I ripped the sketch from the book, crumpling it with my hand, and cast myself into the window seat, staring out at the city.

There was a soft knock, so soft I could barely hear it. I turned and saw King Edmund slipping in. I didn’t want him to see my troubled mind, so I turned away.

‘Now I know you are troubled,’ he said, coming forward, ‘Because I have never known you to fail in acts of courtesy.’ There was a wry edge to his voice—there was always a wry edge to his voice—but there was a note of kindness too. He sat on the window seat with me. After a moment, he said, picking at the braid of a pillow, ‘It troubled me too.’

I watched him, biting on my lip. Part of me wanted to spill out all my secrets and tell him the truth, have the relief of someone knowing. I could submit myself to his justice. I raised my eyes to his and saw there a softness and a warmth I had not before. He looked at me like a friend. And I had the power to change that expression. I could shutter the openness in his face and make his lip curl in disgust.

I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t really see a world where he would grant me something like clemency or acceptance, even if he wouldn’t have me executed. I settled for half of the truth. ‘He asked me for mercy, for help, and I didn’t give it. My father made me swear I would do what I can to help those who needed it and I...I failed.’

Edmund turned to look out to the city. ‘I feel the same. I think—I think this what Tashbaan does to a person. In Narnia, the air is clear, but here...’

‘Everything is shrouded. Murkier for the dust that surrounds it,’ I finished. 

‘Yes. Exactly that.’ He sighed. ‘I fear she is getting more lost to us every day, and yet I still have to find a way of calling her back. But I am glad you are here with me, Lord Peridan.’

‘I am very glad to be of service,’ I replied, and I saw that he understood at least part of the meaning behind those well mannered words, and that it cheered him.

That night we prepared to make merry once more. As I got dressed, I heard Susan fretting over her gown: whether it was right, whether she ought to dress more in the Calormene style. I closed my eyes, willing her to stay in Narnian dress.

When she emerged, she was wearing a Narnian dress with Calormene accessories and hairstyle to odd effect. Edmund stared at her so hard she smoothed her dress and said, ‘Do I look alright?’

‘No,’ Corin answered. ‘Why are you wearing your hair like that?’

‘Corin!’ Susan cried. ‘I thought thee far more gallant than that.’

Corin frowned. ‘Only because I want thee to be the friend I know so well.’

Susan’s face closed off then, but she went back into her dressing room and emerged with a more Narnian hairstyle, and her only Calormene ornament was a necklace Rabadash had gifted her on her arrival. She looked much more herself.

I didn’t feel like making merry or playing the diplomat. The day was still weighing with me so heavily. But I knew that we could give nothing away, so I pasted on a courtier’s mask and asked the Tarkheena Lasaraleen to dance. She tittered and accepted at once.

As I hoped, she began chattering. It was mostly idle prattle, but it showed she was willing to talk and not thinking about it overmuch.

‘I saw a strange sight today,’ I said when she finished a story about her latest joke on one of the princesses, ‘A crier dressed all in black, saying “way, way, way for the dead.”’

Lasaraleen’s eyes went round. ‘They’ve executed him, then.’

I feigned ignorance. ‘Who?’

‘Prince Balian. He was lovely. He always laughed at my jokes. He was next in line for the throne after Rabadash. I wouldn’t have believed it of him, really,’ she said, looking past me.

‘Believed what?’ I prompted.

She brought her round eyed gaze to my face. ‘They say he lay with a man as lovers. Did you even know such a thing could be? Of course, it’s directly against Tash’s will, and Tash’s line cannot be sullied.’

I felt as though someone had punched me in the gut. I had no air left to speak. I could only gasp, ‘Oh.’

‘Terrible, isn’t it? Rumour was the Tisroc favoured Balian more than Rabadash. I thought them both very handsome.’ She shrugged, and started talking about one of the princesses who had just made a match with a Tarkaan.

After the dance I sat down with a drink, taking steadying sips. I needed to concentrate to make sure my hand didn’t shake.

I smelled Ahoshta before I saw him. He reeked of incense and perfume, but that never seemed to cover the smell of onions and garlic.

‘I was hoping to have a chat with you, Lord Peridan,’ he said.

‘With me?’ I said. ‘I confess my surprise—I am a person of very little import.’

Ahoshta admired his bejewelled hand, the many rings on it sparkling in the candlelight. ‘They say you were once the suitor of the queen,’ he observed. ‘Yet I wonder what brings you here to watch her be wooed.’

‘I came at the king’s behest,’ I answered, ‘As is my royal duty.’

‘To hear our prince tell it, you came to thwart his suit. Yet despite reliable reports that you and the Queen had a—ahem—close friendship you do not seem to make any moves to win her back. Almost as if you are willing to let the most beautiful woman in the world slip through your fingers. I ask myself—what sort of a man does that? It is quite...unnatural.’ I could not mistake his implications.

I forced a hollow laugh. ‘Surely to press a suit when she already has one would be well beyond the bounds of diplomacy and honour. You cannot think Northerners that terribly uncouth.’

‘Hm. That is one side of the coin. Turn it over though, and there is another story.’ He examined me closely, and I swallowed. ‘Interesting. But never mind—at the court of the Tisroc (may he live forever), there are no secrets. Not really. As you saw today.’ He rose slowly, and with several grunts. When at last he was standing, though still half bent, he added, ‘The prince’s lover confessed. The poets have said, “Truth is more precious than love,” and I certainly think this proves them right.’ He departed, attempting no doubt to turn and sweep away with his robes fanning out behind him, but he was so slow that they simply dragged like wet reeds.

I wanted to run out of the hall and hide from the prying eyes in the courtyard, but I had the feeling that I would be watched. If Ahoshta knew about what we had seen, he was surely watching us. I gripped my chair to steady myself and took another swig of drink. My head spun with panic, and in the dizzy whirl of my thoughts, I tried to catalogue my behaviour. Had I said or done anything which might indicate where my attractions lie? Had I stared at Edmund a moment too long in the baths? Had anyone’s gaze traveled below my waist before I doused myself with cold water? I watched Rabadash dancing with Susan. He saw me, and flashed a wolffish smile. I realised that despite what Ahoshta had said, the truth did not matter. If Rabadash saw me as a threat, he would trump up a lie about me to have me arrested. Perhaps that was what he had done to his brother. Only this time the charge would be true.

The dance ended and Rabadash lifted Susan’s hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. I watched her shiver with desire and I felt the pit fall out of my stomach.

I took refuge in guiding Corin through the party for the rest of the evening. I did not think they would dare to make any moves whilst I stood by the Crown Prince of Archenland. I hoped. I tried to tell myself I was being dramatic, that I was right when I said to Ahoshta that I was not an important person, but the icy thrill of fear trickled through my veins, making me numb.


	13. The Long Day Wanes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The Calormenes are tightening the noose,' said Edmund. 'We are in the endgame now and it is all down to Susan.'

As we walked back from the Tisroc’s palace, Corin trotted ahead and offered Susan his arm in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Art a very gallant prince,’ she said, slipping her hand in the crook of his elbow, though she had to stoop a little to do so.

When we entered our lodging, I drew Edmund aside to whisper what I had heard from Ahoshta and Lasaraleen.

He frowned. ‘Clearly that was meant to be some sort of display then.’

‘What is this place, that a man could be induced to such a betrayal? That they would mete out such a punishment?’ I wondered privately whether Prince Balian’s lover had voluntarily given him out or whether they had tortured him. I twisted my arm round to feel my scars again.

Edmund sighed, and took off his crown so that he could rake his fingers through his hair. It stood up on end. His crown hung loosely from his hand, and he swung it a moment before lifting it with both his hands to contemplate it. ‘Here is the trouble: Susan is gentle, and good, because she has the luxury of being so. Because we all work so hard—her included—to make Narnia a good place. But she is adaptable. Left here long enough, she would forget her goodness in order to survive. She will always survive, no matter what. And that is the greatest danger we face, unless she changes her mind and comes back to us.’

He bade me good night, and I went to get ready for bed, but abandoned this as soon as I had unclasped my cloak and pulled off my sandals. I strode down the hall and pushed Susan’s sitting room door. 

‘My lord,’ she gasped, putting a hand to her chest. ‘This is most unseem—‘

I cut her off. ‘Answer me this—just this. Could you call yourself queen of this country?’

She drew herself up. ‘Lord Peridan! I would not expect you of all people to be so bold.’

‘Then perhaps you will see how important this is. Could you call yourself queen of this country.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, lifting her chin.

I gripped her arm. She stared at my hand on her and then at my face. ‘Think on it. If you accept this suit, you will have to rule this country. Could you do it? This is a place where the Tisroc would murder his own son.’

‘Rabadash—Rabadash said that he had done something terrible and—and betrayed his family,’ she faltered, and her voice grew fainter as she spoke, as though she was hearing her own words.

‘Do you know what he did?’ I cried, ‘He fell in love with another man. That is the treachery.’ 

She raised a hand to her lips. 

‘Tell me—is that a crime worthy of death?’ I panted. I needed to know. My heart hammered so hard it made me dizzy.

‘I don’t...’ she shook her head in bewilderment.

‘Because I am made to understand that Narnia is a place where one can find redemption rather than put people to death for being different,’ I pressed.

‘It wasn’t always like that,’ she declared, finding her footing. ‘Before we came, it was a place of tyranny. Nations can change. Good rulers can remake them.’

‘But Narnia wanted to be remade. It was thirsting for deliverance. Calormen does not see itself in need of any deliverance whatsoever. They love who they are—in fact, they think these very values make them superior. We are nothing but Barbarians to them,’ I said. My voice rasped with fear.

She stared at the ground, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

‘And think on this,’ I pressed. ‘You heard, I am sure, that the Grand Vizier, a man of almost sixty, is bound to marry a girl of fourteen. How do you think a country that allows that to happen treats its women and its wives? If you think that Rabadash will treat you with the same grace and courtesy as your brothers—‘

‘Stop,’ she said, putting out a hand. ‘I know that already. Who could honour me as much as Peter does? Who could love me as well as Edmund? But I must marry. I’m the only one who thinks about Narnia’s future. Rabadash has pressed a suit.’ She glared at me and hissed, ‘He wants me.’

‘But he won’t treat you like he does now forever,’ I insisted. I caught her meaning but I would not let it distract me. ‘As soon as your vows are recited, on your wedding night—‘

‘Lord Peridan,’ she said, and her voice grave and commanding, ‘Now you truly overstep. I presume you have had a bit too much of that fig wine. It is quite strong. Else you would not speak to your queen of her wedding night in this fashion after having invaded her private quarters. Perhaps it would be best if you went to sleep.’

Her face was queenly but cold—her shield was up now. I had dealt all the blows I could. I bowed stiffly and left the room. As I closed the door behind me, Edmund caught my arm. Our eyes met, and he nodded once before going in to Susan. 

‘Alright, Su, calm down,’ I heard Edmund say through the door. I also heard her choked sob. ‘What can have happened?’

‘Oh Edmund, I’m all in a muddle and I can’t see my way through. Help me.’

‘That is what I am best at,’ Edmund said, a sardonic note to his voice. I wondered for a moment how he could be so wry and insouciant when he was so worried earlier, and then it struck me. He was being the most like his normal self as possible, so that Susan might see it as a refuge. He was playing off our interview, and I didn’t even know I had laid the groundwork. I left him to work his persuasive magic.

The next morning Edmund found me before breakfast. ‘We seem to have dealt a bit of a one-two stroke without planning it,’ he said. ‘She was still very troubled about what you had said to her, and wanted to pick and sift through. She does that when she’s really thinking about something. And then I got her onto thinking of home so...’

‘Is she resolved?’ I asked, clenching my fist.

A shadow passed over his face. ‘Not yet, no. But I think maybe we are getting closer. So thank you, Peridan.’ He called me by my name, and my name alone.

Susan, however, remained cold and queenly and paid very little notice of me. Even Corin saw, and he whispered, ‘What did you say?’

‘I told her some truths which were not exactly welcome,’ I replied.

‘Well—good. Someone’s got to say something, you know,’ he declared. He added in an undertone, ‘I really wish I could box him.’

‘Ah, but we can only imagine how he would behave after being so thoroughly embarrassed.’

Corin burst out laughing. ‘I like you, Peridan. Even if you do have to baby sit me like a child.’ Tumnus, who was Corin’s other minder, gave me a thin smile over the top of his head.

Despite Susan’s need to hear some truths, I did not relish the thought of driving a deeper wedge between us. So I sought her out after breakfast and found her sitting in the garden with her ladies. I went down on my knee before her and took her hand and bent over it. ‘I beg your Majesty’s pardon,’ I said, ‘For aught I have done to displease you.’

Susan dismissed her ladies in waiting. She let her hand rest in mine. ‘You were very impertinent,’ she said. ‘I confess I would not have thought it of you.’

‘Yesterday I was very troubled in my mind,’ I said, raising my head now. I covered her hand with my other one. ‘Your Majesty must know how dear all of Narnia holds you, and how much you have my respect and my admiration. If I spoke out of turn, it was only because of the strength of those feelings.’

‘Lord Peridan,’ she said, and her voice was soft once again. Her hard expression melted, and her lip trembled. ‘I dare say there isn’t a more charming man in all of the Narnian court.’ She stroked the line of my jaw with such wistfulness that it made me sad for all the disappointment I had brought her. I kissed her hand in penitence.

‘Lord Peridan,’ another voice echoed, a silky voice with a sharp knife edge to it. Rabadash was standing in the entry to the garden. I dropped the queen’s hand and rose to my feet.

Rabadash entered slowly, descending the steps with his robe billowing round him. ‘Tut tut,’ he said, ‘They swore to me that the Narnians were honest dealers. They said no one would play me false. Yet here you are, clearly wooing my queen.’

‘Rabadash—‘ Susan began timidly, but he silenced her with a look.

‘You are best to leave us to settle this,’ he growled. Then he added a half second later, ‘My love,’ in a seductive tone.

Susan hesitated, biting on the corner of her lip. I swallowed as I met Rabadash’s eye. He advanced with a slow, sure tread, like a tiger. Susan picked up her skirts and went inside.

When he was sure she was gone, he pounced. He had me by the throat before I could react and brought my face close to his. ‘I suffered you in Narnia, and you were lucky then. You should have stayed. For here, I need suffer nothing. I warned you—this is my realm.’

I gasped for air, and tried to pry his hand off my throat, but he already had the advantage.

‘Know this: she is mine. She will be mine—whatever the cost. I don’t care if I have to leave a pile of bodies in my wake. I’ll start with yours, and gladly.’ He laughed, a low, cruel chuckle. ‘Ahoshta, that idiot, said that you were a man like my dearly departed half brother, but I have always known you had your eye on Susan. Either way it doesn’t much matter, because I will still crush you like a dung beetle. And look at that—I can also call you spy as you understand every word I am saying.’

It was only then that I realised he had been speaking in Calormene.

‘Your Highness—we did not expect you so early but it is pleasant to see you nonetheless.’ Edmund came upon us the same way Rabadash had, though his intrusion was much more welcome.

Rabadash uncurled his fingers from my throat and I leaned against a pillar, gasping for air. He turned and made an obsequious bow. ‘King Edmund.’

Edmund’s eyes swept over the scene, but he kept a pleasant smile on his face even as he positioned himself between Rabadash and me. ‘I see you have been getting better acquainted with Lord Peridan. He is a most trusted and important member of our court, which is of course why we brought him with us. We thought to honour your Highness.’

Rabadash’s lips twitched as he struggled to master himself. After a full minute, he managed to say, ‘Of course. I am very honoured. He is a worldly man, I find, with a good sense about him which dictates prudence.’

‘Indeed,’ said Edmund slowly, narrowing his eyes a bit. Then his manner changed and he said, ‘I am to go up to the palace with you to discuss further the treaties and arrangements. Meanwhile, let me not keep you from your wooing.’

Rabadash made a quick exit then. As soon as he was gone, Edmund came over to me, supporting my elbow. ‘What happened’ He asked.

I shook my head.

‘Tell me. I command it.’ And Edmund’s face was pale and very serious.

So I told him what Rabadash had said and done. ‘The noose tightens,’ he murmured, ‘It seems they are dropping the facade now, and this cannot mean anything good.’

‘Your Majesty, something more,’ I said urgently. ‘When he threatened me, he was speaking in Calormene. He saw that I understood.’

Edmund sighed through his nose. ‘I would think you could hardly help that, given how he had you. It won’t affect things—he can’t say you understand without revealing that he threatened you. Besides, we have all the information we need. We are reaching the endgame now and it is all down to Susan.’

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. Susan seemed faraway and thoughtful, and was often distracted from her food. Edmund ate with such concentration that I half expected him to move his glasses and silverware as pieces on a chessboard. The other courtiers, including Tumnus and Sallowpad, spoke only in murmurs. Corin felt their anxiety and was full of restlessness. Finally he broke the silence by saying ‘I say, Susan—when are we getting out of here? I think we’ve all had enough of this place.’

Everyone stopped eating and gaped at the prince. Susan jumped as though she had been struck, and then tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Please, Corin. I beg of thy patience a bit longer,’ she said in a quavering voice, using that motherly tone which she used to wheedle Corin into behaving. I had seen it many times, and it was very effective. In this case, it made him get up and sit by her, and she put her arm round his shoulders as they finished breakfast together.

I had not been far out in my assessment of Edmund’s behaviour. He sounded me out after breakfast, drawing me aside. ‘I am hoping you have had some education in battle tactics,’ he whispered.

I indicated that I had, and he looked relieved. ‘Listen. Not a word to anyone, but I need you to help me think. I believe now that Susan will refuse Rabadash, but I do not believe they will let her walk unfettered out of this city.’

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘I doubt they—and by that I mean he—would.’

Edmund nodded. ‘So. We must think how we might defend ourselves if need be. How we might send word for aid. How we might escape. It is a puzzle—I haven’t seen an answer yet. But maybe if we both think on it, we can come up with something. The time has come to away from here.’

‘I long to breathe the free Narnian air,’ I admitted.

The rest of that day we were separated, and I too was lost in thought. To appease his restlessness a bit, I suffered Corin to come with me while I examined the city for possible escape routes. We went without a crier before us to see how and whether we could get down to the docks. Although Corin was full of questions, I told him precious little. Even so, he understood that there was a bit of cloak and dagger to the outing.

We were heading back to our lodging, but still a circle or two below in the tiers of Tashbaan. A boy in the street saw us and made a rude joke about Susan. I scoffed, annoyed that we were still so obvious even without a crier.

‘What did he say?’ Corin asked, catching Susan’s name.

I was so deep in thought about the problem of escape that I translated without thinking.

‘How dare he!’ Corin exploded, and made to charge after the boy.

‘Your Highness—stop!’ I cried, and grabbed his arm.

‘Unhand me, Peridan. We can’t stand for this!’

‘And what exactly do you plan to do?’ I demanded.

Hearing the commotion, the boy repeated the joke, dancing out of Corin’s reach. The prince scowled and tried to tug free of my grip. When he failed, he sagged, and I sighed in relief. Then he pulled back and punched me in the stomach. I doubled over, winded, and Corin ran off. I tried to follow or call after him, but I had to wait until I got my breath back. By that time he had vanished from sight.

Panic rose in my throat. I tore after him, hoping his fair hair would stand out to me as it had to the boy who taunted us. I pushed through the market, and women gasped and tutted as I went past them. I came to a main thoroughfare and the crowd thickened. I could hardly see a foot in front of me and I had no room to move; I could only go forward, swept along with the tide. I noticed that no one made any comments about Northerners when I was on my own.

I prayed to Aslan that I might find him. I found clues sprinkled throughout the streets of Tashbaan—someone who said she had seen a boy with hair like sand fighting another boy, which led me to the Watch. They were drunk and barely slurred out their memories of arresting him, but they couldn’t tell me what they had done with him.

I searched until the streets emptied and the lights went out. Every part of me ached, and I dragged myself back to the lodging, my stomach churning with the thought of having to tell Edmund and Susan that I had lost Corin. I wondered where he might be, whether he could hold his own in Tashbaan. What Rabadash would do if he learned that Corin was lost. What King Lune would do if his only heir and beloved son never returned. I thought that if he did manage to show up, I would hit him. And then I would probably hug him. 

When I came through the door, Tumnus was sitting in the hall. He jumped up, crying ‘They’re back! Lord Peridan, I am glad to see you safe home. But where is—?’

‘Where the devil have you been?’ Edmund demanded, striding in. ‘What madness is this, my lord? Out all night, with nary a word!’ He stopped and looked past me to the open doorway. ‘Where is the prince?’

I shook my head. ‘He’s gone. He ran off. I’ve been looking for him all evening, but all the leads went cold.’

Edmund swore under his breath. ‘I should have known better than to bring him. Of course he would do something like this.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I tried to stop him, but he punched me in the stomach and bested me.’

Edmund swore out loud this time.

‘Edmund? What is it?’ Susan appeared at the end of the hallway, her eyes wide.

Edmund pushed back his hair and began to pace. ‘Corin’s gone. He was with Peridan and he ran off.’

‘I’ve been looking for him everywhere since this evening,’ I added.

Susan gasped and covered her mouth. ‘Ho!’ Cried Tumnus, and hurried to catch her before she sank to the ground. She leaned on him and burst into tears.

‘Tumnus,’ said Edmund, his tone clipped, ‘Take my royal sister to her bed chamber. See to it that her maids supply her with a good quantity of wine so that she might sleep. No point in hysterics, Su. Get some rest.’ He crossed to her and gave her a swift peck on the cheek. Tumnus led her off, but I could hear her lamenting Corin all down the hall.

‘And you,’ Edmund said, frowning at me. I stepped back a pace. ‘After all Rabadash has done to you, I thought he had captured you. You must proceed with more caution—you were as rash as the prince, going alone.’

I gave Edmund a weak smile. ‘I was worried for him.’

‘And I you, and so we were all worried about each other and accomplished nothing. What we need,’ he said, resuming his pacing, ‘is to get out of this blasted city. With Corin. And I have that bloody breakfast with Rabadash in a scant few hours.’

I ticked through all of this in my mind. We needed to search for Corin. Edmund was pulled away. ‘Sire,’ I said as the dots connected, ‘Let us go to the palace in a group, with a crier. If Corin has any sense he’ll go to the top tiers of the city, and if we are out and about with someone announcing our presence, we may attract him. Moreover, if you have all the human lords in the company attend you it can seem like a royal display but they can all be hunting for Corin.’

‘That may well be our best chance,’ Edmund said, ‘This is why I can’t lose you, Peridan.’

‘And we can’t lose Corin,’ I said, so that I wouldn’t treasure Edmund’s words too much. ‘Not only is he dear to us, he is Archenland’s only heir.’

‘Trust me,’ said Edmund, ‘I know this all too well. If he is lost, it is all but the end of a centuries long alliance with Archenland.’ 

‘I stand with you, Sire,’ I said. ‘You can call on me for whatever you need.’

‘Get some rest,’ he said, ‘I may need to extract much from that offer before the end.’


	14. Move Earth and Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up sail and out oars...and the Prince waking the next morning and finding his birds flown.

The next morning we walked to the Tisroc’s palace with the crier before us. Edmund and I scanned the crowds on either side, searching for Corin’s bobbing blond curls, but we had no luck. My stomach churned and cold sweat ran down the back of my neck.

Edmund went in alone to speak with Rabadash while I pretended to lounge in the anterooms with some Tarkaans. They kept teasing in Calormene, making jokes about Susan. These got progressively worse—they started by talking about her physical attributes and escalated by saying some truly awful things about her and Peter. I kept my face blank. No doubt Rabadash had commanded them to provoke me, but I was not about to give the Calormenes any more information.

When Edmund came out his expression was perfectly composed, although he was very white. He and Rabadash made a show of bows to each other, and Rabadash looked more tiger-like than ever. 

We went into the sunlit street, blinking in the strong light. Edmund affected an interested stroll, and said to the crier that he wanted to explore the city a bit more, ‘For one can never see enough of its wonders.’ The crier bowed and said ‘To hear is to obey’ but his eyes said that he thought us northerners mad for wanted to roam the streets in the strength of the midday sun.

Within ten minutes we were soaking with sweat. Edmund sent a whispered command through us to act cheerful. One of the lords started whistling. Another swung his arms.

Then all at once Edmund cried ‘There he is! There’s our runaway!’ He darted forward into the crowd and grabbed someone by the shoulder. When I saw Corin’s face, I felt dizzy with relief. Edmund had so much pent up stress he actually smacked the prince.

The prince I knew would have challenged Edmund to a boxing match right there in the street after such treatment, but Corin only hung his head.

Edmund bade me, ‘Take on of his little lordship’s hands, Peridan, of your courtesy, and I’ll take the other. And now, on. Our royal sister’s mind will be greatly eased when she sees our young scapegrace safe in our lodging.’ 

Edmund began to question Corin about where he had been, but he only stared, his brown eyes wide with shock. The more silent he was, the more Edmund pressed, until he exclaimed in frustration,

‘What? All mum? I must plainly tell you, prince, that this hangdog silence becomes one of your blood even less than the scape itself. To run away might pass for a boy’s frolic with some spirit in it. But the king’s son of Archenland should avouch his deed; not hang his head like a Calormene slave.’

Clearly he hoped to rile Corin out of his stupor with this last comment, but still nothing. In fact, Corin rather looked like he was going to cry, which was more alarming still. 

We came to our lodging, leading the silent prince to the sitting room. Susan saw flew to him, kissing and hugging him and chiding him. Corin remained silent.

She continued to fuss over him until Tumnus suggested that the prince had had too much sun, at which point he was brought over to a couch to rest. Sun did not explain this changed prince to me, and I wondered what could have happened to him that Corin of all people was rendered speechless.

Edmund turned to Susan. He was still as pale as he had been after his encounter with Rabadash that morning. ‘Now, Madam,’ he said, fixing a keen eye on his sister. ‘What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will Mary this dark faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?’

I didn’t know whether Edmund was suddenly sure of his answer or simply too strained to wait any longer. I curled my hand into a fist, willing Susan to make the right choice.

She shook her head, her hands folded before her. ‘No, brother. Not for all the jewels in Tashbaan.’ 

Everyone let out the breath they had been holding. I glanced at Corin and saw that while we were all limp with relief, he had almost no reaction at all.

Edmund’s hand shook a bit as he shaded his eyes. ‘Truly, sister,’ he said in a strangled voice. ‘I should have loved you the less if you had taken him.’

Susan accepted these harsh words meekly. She twisted her hands and said that Rabadash had been very different. 

‘We have now seen him for what he is: that is, a most proud, bloody, luxurious, cruel, and self-pleasing tyrant,’ Edmund pronounced in the same voice he used when meting out justice in Narnia. 

‘Then in the name of Aslan, let us leave Tashbaan this very day,’ she declared.

Edmund made as if to push a hand through his hair but then stopped himself and looked round. ‘There’s the rub, sister. For now I must open to you all that has been growing in my mind these last two days and more. Peridan, of your courtesy, look to the door and see that there is no spy upon us.’ I went to the door as was bidden and gave the hallway a thorough examination before coming back in. ‘All well?’ I nodded, and he continued. ‘So. For now we must be secret.’

And so he laid out for everyone the fears he had whispered to me. Many expressed shock that Rabadash could even think to commit such an outrage. Tumnus added that Ahoshta had outright demanded we ‘leave in exchange a bride for our prince.’

At this, Susan went very pale and held onto her brother for support. ‘Do you mean he would make me his wife by force?’ 

Edmund looked into his sister’s face. His jaw was tight, and his eyes flashed with worry. ‘That’s my fear, Susan. Wife: or slave, which is worse.’

At this, Susan went completely white. I knew what horror she saw: a lifetime as the pleasure toy of Rabadash.

‘But how can he?’ Susan whispered. ‘Does the Tisroc think our brother the High King would suffer such an outrage?’ 

I met Edmund’s eye and nodded him to Susan’s evident distress. ‘Sire,’ I said, ‘They would not be so mad. Do they think there are no swords and spears in Narnia?’ 

Edmund did not mince words. ‘Alas, my guess is that the Tisroc has very small fear of Narnia. We are a little land. And little lands on the borders of a great empire were always hateful to the lords of the great empire. He longs to blot them out, gobble them up. When first he suffered the Prince to come to Cair Paravel as your lover, sister, it may be that he was only seeking an occasion against us. Most likely he hopes to make one mouthful of Narnia and Archenland both.’

We got entrenched in a discussion about tactics: first a war, then a defence of the lodging, though the prospect was grim indeed. I wished I had been able to contrive an escape. I steeled myself to sell my life to protect Edmund and Susan. 

Susan shuddered with repressed sobs. I sat beside her and laid a hand on her arm. She seized my hand and held it hard between both of hers.

‘Courage, Su, Courage,’ said Edmund, and even his face softened.

But then he noticed—we all noticed—Tumnus, who was in the throes of thought. He proceeded to concoct a brilliant escape plan involving a fake party on board our ship which would allow us to purchase necessary stores and get everything and everyone on board. A spark of hope ran through us all.

Edmund rubbed his hands, a gleam coming back into his eyes. 

‘We’ll all be on board tonight,’ Tumnus said. ‘And as soon as it is quite dark—‘

‘Up sails and out oars—!’ Cried King Edmund.

‘And the Prince waking the next morning and finding his birds flown!’ I exclaimed, freeing my hand from Susan’s grip so that I might clap my hands and signify the end of Rabadash’s hold on all of us. The relief made me giddy.

Susan jumped up and caught Tumnus’ hands so she might dance with him, her face a mad mixture of laughter and tears still wet on her cheeks.

The plan was officially adopted, and we decided to lunch as we worked out the small details.Tumnus stayed behind to watch over Corin, who was not roused by talk of the queen’s honour, nor the escape, nor even dinner.

After lunch Susan wrote and rewrote the invitation until it had the sound of a promise but actually promised nothing. When she was done, Edmund read it over and gave it a nod. ‘Good. That ought to pacify him for the day—I hope. And now, to preparations. Peridan, of your courtesy keep watch over the Queen. I shouldn’t like to leave her undefended.’

I bowed to this, and Susan nodded. There was a resolve in her face that had not been there before. ‘Then let us go, my lord, and see how the Prince fares.’

‘I’d like to see if I can get a straight story out of him,’ Edmund said, and we all went in together, Susan leading the way.

When she opened the door she gave a small cry, and Edmund and I fanned out behind her to see what the matter was, drawing our swords as we did so. Corin was not reclining on the sofa with a dazed look but standing in the middle of the room with a black eye and a missing tooth.

‘What’s happened to you?’ Susan gasped. ‘Have they—did they get in here and hurt you?’

‘Who?’ Said Corin. ‘Oh—you still think that other boy was me.’

‘What other boy?’ Edmund demanded sharply.

‘My double. I did ask him to stay but he was very keen to be off. Apparently you mistook me for him, Edmund.’ And he laughed at this. Then he grew sober. ‘I say, Lord Peridan, I’m awfully sorry for punching you in the stomach. It’s important to defend a lady’s honour, you know. Even so—you’ve been a good friend. Shall we make it pax?’ And he extended his hand.

I shook it, saying ‘I’m not keen on being on the receiving end of another of those punches, so I think pax is the safest bet.’

Corin laughed again, and he was so much himself I wondered how we could have mistaken that silent, staring boy for him.

‘Corin,’ said Edmund in a very serious voice. ‘Who is this other boy? Why didn’t he stay?’

‘Oh, he’s escaping too! On a Talking Horse, he said. He thinks he’s Narnian, or northern, but he’s lived in Calormen all his life. But he wouldn’t give me his name or stay or anything. All he did was tell me that we were stealing off in secret and then ask me how to get out of here. So I told him.’

Edmund rubbed his forehead, and his face pinched. ‘So. He heard everything but he is not necessarily a friend.’

‘He wouldn’t betray us. I know it,’ Corin said. 

‘How do you know it?’ Edmund demanded.

‘I can’t explain it—I just do. If we meet again, we’ll be friends. In fact, I’m sorry I couldn’t make him stay.’ Corin looked out the window where the boy had disappeared.

‘Yes,’ murmured Susan. ‘If he is looking to run away, his life must be quite hard here. And a Narnian Horse prisoner.’ She went over to the window to look out and search for him as well.

‘Before you try to save the world, let’s make sure we’ve saved ourselves,’ Edmund said. ‘Nonetheless, we’ll keep our eyes open for this boy and this horse. If we see them, we’ll persuade them to come along. Meanwhile, let us go.’

I went down with Susan to the ship, and she commanded Corin by her side. He looked on the point of protesting, but a sharp look from Edmund and a pleading one from Susan made him consent. Edmund would remain at the house until last of all, since custom dictated he would have little to do with a party and only turn up after all the preparations had been made to give his approval.

Susan followed my suggested and used a litter. Our progress through the city was achingly slow, even with a crier before us. I affected cheerfulness, pointing things out in the markets to Susan and Corin, stopping to purchase iced drinks and sweetmeats as though we were sampling in advance of the feast. Though Susan’s expression was still strained, she declared her wonder and admiration in rapt tones, as though she loved the country as much as her suitor. 

After an hour trudging through the heat and sweaty crowds, with the incessant droning of the crier, we fell silent and I started to get lost in memories.

‘Have you memorised it yet?’ Father asked, smiling eagerly.

‘I—I think?’ I stammered.

‘Let’s hear it then,’ Father pronounced, sitting back in his chair and sipping his goblet.

I found the words stuck in my mouth because I feared they were the wrong ones, and the more Father stared, his brows raised, the more the words choked me.

‘By the Lion, Caernan, you’re not one of his examiners!’ Orran cried, rolling his eyes. ‘I’m sure you do know it, Peridan. Say it with me: ‘And Gale the Deliverer said unto Peridan...’

Here I joined, my piping voice shaky. We said the first line together, but then Orran dropped out and let me recite it on my own. 

‘For thy sword hath been my aid and thy shield hath shielded me,  
Thy bravery and comraderie have helped me win this day.  
So they make me Emperor of the Islands  
And thus unto you, I grant a lordship in Narnia.  
Mayest thou grow and prosper in the shadow of Cair Paravel  
That I might always find thy friendship in arm’s reach.’

‘That’s us. That’s our story,’ Father said, his eyes shining. ‘I named you Peridan so that you may carry on the tradition.’ He leaned forward and gripped my shoulder. ‘Never forget that.’ 

‘You and your dreams of noble deeds,’ Orran said with a shake of his head. ‘He’s a boy. Let him be a boy. There isn’t even an Emperor for him to serve, just an evil Empress who curses us with storms and sickness.’

‘The four thrones still sit in Cair Paravel. The prophecy still gives up hope. The hour will come,’ Father said. ‘And I want him to be ready.’

‘How does one ready for such an hour?’ Orran said with a chuckle. ‘You are a lover of a lost cause.’

‘But that’s just the point!’ Father cried. ‘The cause is not lost! Peridan, remember this—seize your hour when it comes, as you ancestor did. Be bold and brave. That is all you need to be great.’

But I did not feel bold or brave as we inched towards the docks. I felt hot and dizzy and anxious to see the ship and be away. Father had me quote the end of the epic, ignoring the parts where the story was darkest and most dangerous and the way through wasn’t clear. 

At last we could see the glittering brownish water of the harbour and the masts of the Splendour Hyaline looming over everything. Our litter was halted, and Susan and I frowned at each other, wondering who could hold us up. The voice of the other crier came. ‘Way, way, way! Way for his most royal highness, the Crown Prince. Way before the bloodline of the great god Tash!’

Rabadash was lounging on a litter looking more tiger-like than ever. When he saw Susan he leapt down and crossed to her. Every Calormene in his path threw themselves to the ground.

‘My lily queen,’ he said, taking up Susan’s hand and kissing it. ‘I come to say I look forward to our feast. I feel you have something important to say to me.’

For a moment, Susan’s face was a picture of shock, her eyes wide and her lips parted. Before Rabadash had even looked up from kissing her hand, she had composed herself. ‘Yes, Rabadash, I do.’ She stroked his beard with just the tips of her fingers, and his desire when she did it was a palpable thing. I did not know how Susan managed not to shudder.

Rabadash swung up beside her (the litter buckled under the sudden added weight) and he seized her about the waist and whispered something in her ear. He ravished her with looks.

Her smile was shaky as she laid her fingertips on his chest, pushing him away with something like a caress. ‘You know we must show patience and restraint—as we bond ourselves, so we bond our two nations.’

‘Enough restraint!’ He cried, and jumped down. ‘I go then to your brother, and we will end these interminable negotiations about heirs and thrones. He has stood in the way of my heart’s desire for too long. I will keep him all night if I have to, until we have signed a treaty, so that tomorrow we can celebrate our union. And then, my love. And then.’ He seized Susan’s hand and brought the inside of her wrist to his lips. I could see him touch the tip of his tongue to her skin. She went very still. Rabadash flashed me a look of malice through his too white smile. He stalked to his litter and swung himself up. ‘Take me to the Narnian lodging,’ he commanded. ‘I will speak with the King this hour.’

Corin tugged at my sleeve and whispered, ‘If he keeps Edmund all night, he won’t be able to get to the ship before morning.’

‘And if he signs a treaty or makes any agreement, our flight will be useless,’ I returned.

Susan whipped round as soon as Rabadash melted into the crowd. ‘Go, Peridan, and bring my brother here. You must get there before Rabadash. Do not stay!’ She commanded, her voice high pitched with panic.

I turned and ran through the streets, weaving through the crowds, dodging carts and horses. I only paused to buy two Calormene travelling cloaks from a merchant. I had to climb, always climb.The enclosed streets made the air stale and heavy. But whenever I started to flag I could hear a crier, and I never knew if it was Rabadash. I found the will to spur myself on.

At last I burst through the door of the house and bent double with my hands on my knees, drawing enough breath to bellow ‘King Edmund!’

There was a silence and I called his name again, my heart hammering. When he appeared, I sagged against the wall.

‘Peridan—what is it? Is my sister alright?’ He crossed swiftly to me, searching my face.

I shook my head, still gasping for breath. ‘Not her—it’s you. Rabadash is on his way here—now. He swears he will bind you to a treaty, or keep you in negotiations until you agree.’

Sallowpad was the last Narnian in the house with Edmund, and the king called him hither. ‘Greet the prince and tell him I have already gone down to the ship to prepare. Get from him a place to meet him tomorrow morning, as though you will deliver the message. And then when he is gone, fly to the ship. We will wait for you.’

‘Or we will wait for you, your Majesty,’ Sallowpad replied, and he fluttered outside, making it look as though he was sunning himself on the wall. Edmund nodded to me.

I threw the cloak over him and pulled on my own. We went to the gate—the city guard was patrolling back and forth down a narrow section of the street. ‘Likely they have been told to watch the house,’ Edmund murmured. We watched the tour the guards made and assessed the shadows. They were growing longer. I listened hard for the sound of Rabadash’s crier.

We made a dash for it and ducked into an alley. We crept down to the end, and fortunately found it opened onto a wider street. Before we stepped into the thoroughfare, I paused to tug the hood of the cloak over Edmund’s face with a rueful smile. ‘And thy cloak hath shielded me,’ I quipped. I thought Edmund might laugh a bit, but he only looked at me blankly, as though I had no idea what I was talking about.

We stole through the streets, threading our way through the crowds. I grasped Edmund’s wrist, pulling him along as I saw the openings.

‘I’m not a damsel in distress you know!’ He complained.

‘Are you sure?’ I said over my shoulder. ‘You’d make such a fetching damsel.’

He started to laugh, but then we heard the crier. ‘Way, way, way! Way for Rabadash, the crown prince, the next in Tash’s line!’

We froze and stared at each other. I drew him back. We manoeuvred ourselves behind a cart. We both breathed heavily, I could feel his chest rising and falling against mine. Rabadash seemed to be advancing painfully slowly. 

‘I will speak to him,’ Edmund whispered. ‘Get down to the ship. Command them to sail without me. I shall find a way out of this city.’ He started to move to pull off the cloak, but I stayed his hand.

‘Your Majesty, no.’ I hissed. ‘You cannot sacrifice yourself.’

‘It’s the only way,’ he said, his voice almost plaintive. ‘We are rats in a trap. I must save Susan.’

‘And I must save my king. The only way out is through. We are in this now, and must see it to the end. If you announce yourself here, Rabadash will surely suspect something and stop the Queen. Come.’ I didn’t leave him time to respond. I took his hand again and we skirted the edges of the crowd, downhill and away from Rabadash. 

‘The only way out is through,’ Edmund repeated, half to himself.

‘Come on, you can marvel at my philosophies on the ship,’ I said, my heart still thrumming in my throat. We started to sprint then. We were gasping for breath, but at last we could see the flags of the ship in the harbour. We went up the gangway with our hoods still up.

Sallowpad was sitting on the railing at the tip, ruffling his feathers. Tumnus said to Edmund ‘Her Majesty asked to see you the moment you were aboard. She is down below.’ Edmund nodded and motioned for me to come with him.

Susan had been sitting with Corin, but when she saw her brother she rose and pitched herself at him. ‘Oh, Edmund! Thank Aslan you’re safe.’

‘Yes, yes, I’m safe until you squeeze the breath out of me,’ Edmund said, but he did pat Susan’s shoulders, and he didn’t complain again when she sobbed and hugged him tighter. 

Then, came the waiting. Waiting for the sun to set and the gates to close. Waiting for all the harbour crowds to drift away and the merchants to make their last deliveries. Waiting for the dead of night, and waiting for the slow tug of the ship as she glided out of our dock.

‘It doesn’t even feel like we’re moving!’ complained Corin.

‘Come and see though,’ said Edmund, and we went through his stateroom onto the balcony there and saw that we were already a ways down the river, and Tashbaan was a hill in the middle distance.

‘I will be glad when it drops from my sight forever,’ Susan declared.

We stood willing the ship to go faster and Tashbaan to fade away. Susan turned to her brother. ‘Edmund,’ she said, ‘Did you really mean what you said this morning about laying down your life for me?’

Edmund pressed his lips together and patted her arm before going inside to pour more wine. He even let Corin have another cup, and though the prince had declared he could drink like a man, his red nose and unfixed gaze belied him on this point.

We stayed up until we heard the sailors shouting to raise the sail, and then we heard the whoosh and thwack of the sail unfurling and being caught by the wind. But the best feeling in the world was the tug as it pulled the ship forward on a strong wind. Everyone raised a cheer. ‘For Narnia and the north!’ I cried, and Susan nodded and wept on her brother’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously much dialogue and scene credit here to the original work, The Horse and His Boy. I've included Peridan's scant lines of dialogue from the book, because from (I think) three lines of dialogue and a handful more mentions came the character who now has a whole (fan fiction) novel devoted to his journey.


	15. Always Roaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return on the Splendour Hyaline: full of epic poetry and nighttime confessions

I found Edmund the next morning sitting on the poop deck before his chess board, watching the desert on the western shore. A steady wind pressed us forward, but even with that the air was sticky, hot and heavy.

‘Morning, Peridan,’ he greeted me, his voice heavy as well. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Truth be told, Sire, I did not,’ I answered. 

‘Mmm,’ Edmund agreed. ‘I was much the same.’ A large raindrop splashed on the chess board in front of him and he frowned. 

‘Likely it is for the best,’ I said. ‘You would have struggled to find an opponent. I am wiped clean of stratagems this morning.’

He exhaled a short laugh through his nose. ‘Breakfast then,’ he said, and we went down below. I made to go to the dining cabin with the lords, but Edmund bade me follow him to the royal cabin, where Susan, Tumnus, and Corin were already eating. Susan welcomed me with a timid smile.

Edmund dropped into a chair and began filling his plate. The spread before us was comprised of the food we should have eaten for the feat which was never held, and there was something odd about eating cold party food on a gray morning at sea.

We ate in silence, bringing the food mechanically to our mouths. Though I chewed slowly, I couldn’t seem to taste anything. At last, Edmund broke the silence.

‘Thy cloak hath shielded me,’ he echoed. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Oh—just a silly play on that verse from the Song of King Gale,’ I replied, stiffening with shyness. Now that we were out of Tashbaan I felt my old uncertainty returning.

Edmund looked blank again, and when I glanced at Susan I saw she was also mystified. Corin looked as though he felt he should have known it, but also couldn’t quite remember.

‘I’m surprised you don’t know it,’ I remarked. ‘It is our great Narnian epic poem.’

‘Oh, that’s why I’ve heard of it. My tutor was banging on about it, but then when I asked him to tell it to me, he said that it had mostly been lost and only a few fragments survived,’ said Corin around a mouthful of fruit.

‘I only know the name,’ said Tumnus, ‘and that it tells the story of how the Lone Islands became Narnian.’

‘It’s not lost—trust me,’ I said. ‘Every child at school in the Lone Islands has to memorise it, and they do a play of it every year in Narrowhaven. The gallery in the governor’s palace has the story done in murals.’

‘Did you memorise it?’ Asked Susan.

‘Particularly so,’ I said. ‘Since it tells—in part—the story of my house.’

‘Does it?’ said Edmund, leaning forward.

‘Tell it to us!’ cried Corin.

‘It takes hours,’ I said. ‘I am sure you would get bored.’

‘Yes, we are very busy here at sea,’ Edmund said, rolling his eyes.

‘We would love to hear it, Peridan,’ Susan added.

So we adopted a plan where I recited the poem in parts. After breakfast I started with the first part—Gale’s vision from Aslan that he should take to the sea. I thought that would be all for the day, but in the afternoon Corin asked for more, and Edmund and Susan and Tumnus readily attended, so I told of Gale’s adventures at sea and the first meeting between Narnia and Calormen. 

Edmund started when the dinner bell rang. ‘This does serve as a diversion—though I am sure you are tired from all your schoolboy recitations.’

‘Not at all,’I said. ‘I am happy to help your Majesties in any way that I can.’

Edmund narrowed his eyes, appraising me. ‘From spy to storyteller,’ He noted. ‘You certainly can play a lot of roles.’

I lifted my brows, but did not quite dare ask what he meant.

‘What I would love to know,’ Edmund continued, circling me, ‘Is who you are when you are not playing your roles.’ My breath caught, and I forced a smile.

After a dinner of more leftover party food, we lounged about under the stars. I looked over the dark sea under a velvet sky and murmured,

‘Gale sailed east, chasing the horizon to lands unknown  
After a week of sailing, he saw, silhouetted against the sunset  
The purple cliffs of Doorn. Beyond, sleeping like a giant in the sea  
Lay Felimath, all its gentle slopes in bloom.’

‘Oh good,’ said Corin, ‘Go on.’

I turned round and saw that Corin and Susan and Tumnus and Edmund were all sitting attentively. I blushed, but continued with the arrival of King Gale in Narrowhaven, and the people in disarray because their king had just been slain by the dragon. They pleaded to the Narnian King for help.

‘And he drew his sword and said unto them,  
“By the Great Lion Aslan, and his father Emperor-Over-Sea  
I swear to deliver you from this blight, or die in the attempt.  
But he who fights alone fights death as much as his foe.  
Who among you will call yourselves my comrades   
And stand beside me in this hour of liberation?”  
All the men shrank into the silence of fear;  
They did not dare step forward into the maw of grievous fate.  
All except one, a young squire, bright eyed and bold.  
Still a boy with a downy cheek, who had yet to take his knighthood  
He struck his sword on his wooden shield and proclaimed  
“I, Peridan, will aid you in this fight.  
Whatever comes of this endeavour, I can say at the end  
I stood beside the King and the Lion.”’

At this, they all gasped and exclaimed. ‘So this is what you meant by the story of your house,’ Susan said with a smile.

‘My father named me after this Peridan,’ I explained, blushing a bit. ‘He’s my ancestor.’

‘I had no idea your house was so old and storied,’ mused Tumnus.

‘No indeed,’ agreed Edmund as he filled my goblet with wine. ‘I dare say you are more noble than we.’

I laughed at this and pledged him with my cup. ‘I am only here to stand beside the King.’

He laughed in return, and a shiver went down my spine. I wanted to find a hundred ways to make him laugh. I shook myself out of this quickly and continued with the recitation.

Over the next couple of days I made it all the way through the story—Gale and Peridan facing the dragon, Peridan using his shield to defend Gale so that Gale could slay the dragon, the celebration of the Islanders and their giving the Islands to Gale so that he might be Emperor over them, and Gale’s promise to Peridan. When I recited the bit about ‘Thy sword hath been my aid and thy shield hath shielded me’ Edmund exclaimed ‘Oh!’ And clapped his hand to his forehead.

‘So that’s what you meant in Tashbaan!’ He cried. ‘That’s rather clever—too bad I didn’t get the joke. It might have cheered me up.’ And I glowed at this more than I did at the admiration of my family story.

I wound it up—Gale giving Peridan the lordship of Lionshaim and the two of them sailing for Narnia together leaving the Lone Islands peaceful and happy.

‘That explains your holdings,’ said Sallowpad, who had joined our group along with several lords. ‘I always wondered how you came by such a significant swath of land.’

‘By inheriting a title when I was very young, at a historic moment,’ I replied.

I could not sleep. The sea breeze at night was refreshing, but I felt no relief or calm or coolness. I could not stop thinking about Edmund. For three days, as I was mechanically reciting the Song of King Gale, I was watching Edmund: the way he lounged, cat like, his limbs stretched, his eyes sparking with interest. He had a swatch of hair that fell into his eyes which he would flick away with graceful fingers.

The worst part was however much I tried to push them from my mind, a part of me wanted to ruminate on Edmund. I wanted to want him.

I tried to talk myself out of my feelings. I told myself I was young so desire was natural, lonely so it was inevitable. My thoughts churned through my head so much that I paced on deck most nights until my legs felt like jelly beneath me and when I blinked my eyelids felt like they were lined with sand. Only then did I know I would be able to snatch a bit of rest, and I would plod back to my cabin for a restless few hours of sleep.

One night after dinner, Susan bade me to go and check on Edmund. ‘You’re the only person here he’ll talk to, and I am sure he needs someone to talk to,’ she said. 

Edmund was sitting on the balcony of his stateroom, lounging in a chair with a bottle of whiskey by his side. He took a sip from a cup, then looked up at me. ‘Come and have a drink,’ he said. 

I sat rather stiffly on the vacant chair. Edmund poured a measure of whiskey and pressed it into my hand. I drank. I had not tasted whiskey before; it was surprisingly sweet and warm. I looked into the cup and smiled a bit.

‘You’re lucky to share in my private stores,’ Edmund remarked.

‘You are an inimitable host,’ I replied. I realised for the first time I didn’t weigh up my quip before delivering it. He snorted.

He returned to drinking, and for a few minutes we sat in companionable silence, watching the reflection of the moonlight in the water. I drank again, and as the liquid slid down my throat and warmed my insides, I felt myself start to uncoil for the first time in weeks. I sighed.

‘Exactly,’ Edmund said, and he raised his glass to toast mine.

‘It has been a trying few weeks,’ I admitted.

He made a noise of assent with the cup at his lips. ‘All’s well that ends well, I suppose. But I won’t rest in my mind until I understand it all.’

‘What is left to understand?’ I asked.

‘How did we get here? Susan keeps harping at me about what I said in Tashbaan about loving her less if she had taken Rabadash. She thinks I love her less now, but that’s not it. It’s not even what I meant. It’s just…’ He broke off with a growl of frustration and dropped his head in his hands. After a moment he lifted his head and turned to me. ‘I don’t understand. I try. Especially with Susan. Lucy and Peter are so bloody perfect that Susan and I have to understand each other’s imperfections. But I can’t wrap my head around this.’

‘What?’ I prompted. I knew this mood, where he needed to speak his thoughts aloud and test them. I was coming to know him.

‘She claimed she desired Rabadash, that it clouded her so much she couldn’t see straight or think straight. But how can that be?’

I opened my mouth, a question on the tip of my tongue, but I buried my nose in my cup and took a long draught. Edmund was quick to top me up. ‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘I desire candour more than anything just now.’

I swallowed and let the alcohol blur the edges a bit. ‘Have you never felt that way about someone?’ I didn’t want to know the answer to my question. I didn’t want to hear him wax poetic about some Galmian girl. I told myself that was perhaps exactly why I needed to hear his reply.

He surprised me though. ‘No,’ he said at once.

‘Truly?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ He poured the rest of his cup down his throat and reached for some more. He poured sloppily so it sloshed a bit. ‘I went down to the bacchanal once—you’ve been, haven’t you?’

I shook my head. I did not dare go anywhere near the bacchanal. 

‘Oh. Well, for years Peter and Susan wouldn’t let me go, until one year I decided they were being ridiculous because they started going when they were even younger. So I went down. There’s a feast bit and lots of wine—that’s good fun. But beyond the bonfire…I did want to want it, but these maenads started grabbing at me and…I don’t know. I felt all odd and out of place. I didn’t stay.’

I drank, watching him carefully.

‘I think…I think it’s just not in me,’ he said. ‘I’ve never looked at anyone and felt half the way Susan describes it.’

I needed this douse of cold water, I told myself, even as I tipped more whiskey down my throat. He doesn’t want anyone. So.

‘Have you felt that way? That you want them so much you would lose yourself to them?’ Edmund asked, peering at me.

I leant forward, my elbows on my knees and the cup dangling between my legs. ‘I have,’ I murmured. I kept my eyes on the water.

‘Tell me about it,’ he said.

My brow furrowed. I held out the cup. After Edmund refilled it, I knocked back a shot at once and gasped as the whiskey burned my throat. ‘It is…powerful. And beautiful. But painful—and lonely.’

‘They didn’t want you back,’ Edmund said.

I shook my head.

‘So it wasn’t Susan.’

I gave a wan laugh. ‘It was not Susan.’

He poured some more slyly. I caught him with a look and he gave me a sheepish smile. ‘I wondered if I could get you to tell me who it was.’

I bit down hard on my lip. I thought about it. But what was the point? Too much risk and nothing to gain. I gave him a playful push on the arm. ‘Come now,’ I said, ‘A man has to have some secrets.’

Edmund pulled a face before sitting back. I made to rise, but he gestured for me to stay with his fingers. ‘I feel in need of a friend just now,’ he said, still looking over the water.

I decided that would have to be enough. I stayed.

When I finally got back to my room, I muffled my shout with my pillow. I then lay staring at the ceiling and realised there would be no rest until I exhausted myself. I brought a bottle of strong wine onto the deck and took long swigs from it as I strode back and forth, my feet clomping on the deck. After I finished about half the bottle and everything started to go a bit fuzzy, my pace slowed and softened. I slumped against the railing and brushed away the tears that pricked at my eyes. I looked down into the water. There was a lamp hung directly above me, and in the calm of that night, I could see a wavy, refracted reflection of myself. That distorted view seemed more natural to me than the polished version of myself I presented to the world. 

‘Lord Peridan? Are you—are you alright?’

I spun around and saw Susan there, clutching her teal silk wrapper around herself. The rich, flowing garment and her streaming black hair gave her a regal look, but her blue eyes were wide and staring like a girl’s. The juxtaposition made her beguiling. I bowed to her.

‘Fine, your Majesty,’ I choked out.

‘You aren’t. I can see you’re not,’ she said, coming forward. She laid her hand on the railing next to mine. ‘I’m not alright either,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve been so stupid, so impatient, and nearly brought us all to peril.’

‘I understand what you wanted,’ I said. ‘That’s only human.’

I offered her my half finished bottle of wine. She raised it to her lips and drank deeply, closing her eyes. When she drew the bottle away, and dark drop of wine remained, staining her lips. I stared at it in fascination. Then, without calculation or goal, I wiped it away gently with my thumb. I brought my thumb to my lips and sucked the drop of wine off.

‘I did…want,’ she whispered, her eyes roving over my face. ‘He wasn’t the first person I wanted though. And if I had just been a bit more patient…’ She took another drink, and after putting the bottle down she rested the palms of her hands on my chest. Then she curled her fingers, gripping fistfuls of fabric.

You can let this happen, I told myself. You long for someone’s touch. You can have something.

‘Peridan,’ she breathed. ‘You are always so loyal. But so distant.’

My brow tensed. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I rested them on her waist. She was warm and real and safe. She inclined her her head. I dipped mine.

‘We shouldn’t...I’ve not asked permission...’ I mumbled vaguely.

‘I don’t care,’ she seethed through gritted teeth. ‘I’m done with decorum.’ And she buried a hand in my hair and pulled me into the kiss.

Her mouth was hungry, and she pressed herself to me. I felt the softness of her breasts against my chest, and the strangeness made me stumble back from her.

‘I can’t. I cannot court for your hand, and so I should not kiss you at all,’ I said, looking at the hem of her dress rather than her face. Her bare toes peeped out from under the flowing silk.

‘Why?’ She demanded, her voice ragged.

I drew in a breath. I wanted to tell her that if I could love a woman, I would certainly love her, but I couldn’t tell that to anyone. ‘I haven’t asked permission,’ I began, casting about for reasons. ‘And so close on the heels of Rabadash seems poor form.’

‘Those aren’t reasons!’ She exploded. ‘That’s manners and you know as well as I that manners don’t matter in love. Come, Peridan. If you will not have me, you owe me the truth.’ She lifted her chin.

I folded my arms over my stomach. The blood was pounding in my ears so hard I couldn’t think, and she was staring at me, challenging me. I had a mad impulse to spill the whole truth to her, beg her mercy and understanding. But I rallied my thoughts. I knew how to do this. I lied to my uncle with half truths all the time. Still, my head swam as I spoke. ‘I cannot be the man you deserve.’ She opened her mouth to protest, but I continued. ‘I cannot love you as you deserve.’

‘Why?’ She said, her tears spilling over even as she spoke through gritted teeth. ‘What is wrong with me?’

“Nothing,’ I said at once. ‘Nothing at all. The fault lies with me.’ I took up her hand. ‘I am sorry I could not be...better.’ 

‘Better! You are good, you are noble. You are sweet. What more could I ask for?’ She sniffed.

For a flash I understood how she saw me, and it broke my heart because I could never be that person. ‘Trust me. You do not know all of me.’ The note of bitterness in my voice surprised even me, and it stunned Susan into silence. I bowed over her hand and went inside.


	16. Some Work of Noble Note May Yet Be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing for the battle of Anvard.

I slept heavily and dreamlessly, so much so that the servants had to call me to breakfast in the morning. I sat yawning over my food and wishing for coffee rather than tea. Susan and I did not have a chance to speak, being sat at opposite ends of the table, but I felt her eyes on me.

Edmund was cheerful, and wagered we would likely be home within the next day or so. Before we had finished breakfast the captain proved him right by coming to announce that Cair Paravel was in sight, and a short while later we gathered at the prow to watch Cair Paravel draw nearer.

‘It looks the same,’ Susan sighed.

Edmund gave her a keen look. ‘Did you expect it to look different?’ 

‘I think I did,’ she murmured, ‘Because I feel so different myself.’ She wiped her eyes with the crook of her finger.

‘Susan! You’re not crying!’ exclaimed Edmund.

‘Don’t mock me, Edmund. I can’t help it. There were moments when I thought we’d never see home again, and now, here we are. And everything’s the same.’

Edmund didn’t respond—his eyes were fixed on the castle. He commanded a spy glass and held it up to his eye. ‘Not everything,’ he pronounced.

‘Well, yes, Peter’s not home,’ Susan said sombrely, indicating the flags which flew above the castle. Lucy’s blue pennant snapped in the breeze while Susan’s green and Edmund’s golden flags slid up the flagpoles to join it. The High King’s scarlet banner was still missing though. 

‘It’s not just that. With the flags, that means Lu’s seen the ship, and our flags showing you’re on board. With the way she went on about you leaving, I would have expected nothing short of a full state welcome for your return.’

‘Edmund, really. That’s a bit unkind of you,’ Susan frowned.

‘I’m not teasing—I really thought she would. In fact—‘ he raised the spyglass again and scanned the quay a moment, ‘She’s not even waiting at the dock.’

‘Is she not?’ Susan said, holding her hand out. When she had verified this for herself, she murmured, ‘That is odd.’ She began to chew on her thumbnail.

As we set foot on the dock, a shape moving so fast it was a blur charged toward us. Behind it, we could make out a human figure at full tilt. Before I could fully form my questions, the blur skidded to a halt before us and revealed itself as a Stag. He made a low bow, his sides heaving.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said gravely, ‘I bring word from a messenger. Anvard is under siege.’

‘What!’ Edmund cried. ‘By whom? Archenland is not at war with anyone.’ While everyone looked very troubled by this turn, Corin especially seemed to be going through a complicated series of emotions: his face mottled white and very red at the same time, and his mouth was set in a firm line older than his years.

‘Prince Rabadash and two hundred horse,’ the Stag answered. ‘That is all I know.’

Queen Susan gasped. ‘He can’t.’

‘I’m afraid he already has,’ said Edmund.

‘He wouldn’t...this isn’t because of me?’

Edmund only answered with a look.

‘But Archenland has nothing to do with it! Why would he attack them? Oh...’ She leaned on Tumnus for support.

‘Susan, the same holds true now as it did in Tashbaan. We have to find our courage—there’s no time for fainting away. Come now,’ Edmund snapped. I could see his mind turning over, but also that he was reaching loose ends and getting frustrated. Nevertheless, his speech had its intended effect, and Susan straightened herself up and dusted herself down, her chin resolute even though her face was pale.

The figure behind the stag turned out to be Queen Lucy, her hair and skirts streaming behind her. She had been going at full pelt, but of course she couldn’t match the stag for speed. She flung her arms around Edmund and Susan and Corin all in turn before turning to her brother. ‘I’ve called the generals to council and told them to muster the troops. They’ll be ready to make their report in half an hour. ‘

‘Good. We can plan once we have information.’ Edmund paused, then turned properly to his sister and clapped a hand on her shoulder. ‘Good thinking, Lu.’

Queen Lucy only nodded, but her face glowed with pride.

Edmund started towards the castle at once, and we all gathered ourselves quickly to follow him. ‘Tumnus, see to the Queen. Susan, once you’ve collected yourself, please take care of this noble Stag—I do apologise, I didn’t even ask your name.’

‘Chervy, Sire,’ the Stag supplied.

‘See that Chervy is well treated and that he has both food and rest before he returns home. Peridan, Lucy—with me. And Corin—‘

‘I’m coming with you and Lucy,’ Corin announced. When Edmund looked on the point of rebutting this, he added ‘It’s my country. My home. I should take part in defending it.’

Edmund paused, then seemed to end his internal debate in a moment and declared ‘Fine. But you must listen, above all else.’

‘I will,’ Corin said solemnly.

We entered the war chamber. I had never seen it before, and I took in as much of the magnificent room as I could in a glance: wood panelled walls covered with weapons and shields, and in the centre a table inlaid with a map of Narnia and Archenland. I wanted to marvel at the table, for it was truly a work of art, but there was no time. Already one of the generals, a grizzled satyr was placing markers for the armies on the board. I saw Corin swallow when he saw the Calormene pieces clustered around Anvard, and he balled his fists at his side. Queen Lucy saw as well, and she laid a hand on Corin’s arm. 

The satyr debriefed us on the current state of the troops. The overwhelming majority of the foot soldiers and a good number of cavalry had gone north to join the High King, who had called for reinforcements.

‘That is all well and good,’ said Edmund in clipped tones, ‘But who have we left?’

‘A troop of cats was due to go up tomorrow—they had been sent home to rest and have just recuperated. And there are the six giants,’ the general answered.

Edmund blew air out of his cheeks. ‘That’s a small something. What about archers?’’

‘A regiment, Sire, but no experienced captain.’

‘I’ll captain them,’ said Queen Lucy. Edmund rubbed his mouth. ‘You know I can do it,’ she continued. ‘You’ve taught me all my strategy.’

‘I know, but Peter...’ Edmund began doubtfully.

‘Peter’s not here!’ Queen Lucy returned. ‘And we’re short on men. Trust in me, Edmund.’

He stared at her, weighing this all up in his mind. Finally he said, ‘Fine. Yes. Captain them.’

Queen Lucy attempted to look very solemn and important, but she could not fully suppress her smile. Corin chucked her on the arm and she gave him a nod.

Meanwhile, Edmund leaned over the table. ‘Now that we know what we have, the question is what to do.’

He seemed to be thinking aloud, but everyone took this as an invitation to suggest plans.

‘Attack from a distance,’ advised the satyr. ‘Make use of the archers.’

‘Are you mad?’ Said a dwarf, ‘How are the archers meant to get so many clear shots when the place is surrounded by woods? They’d have to be standing out in the open, and then they’d be sitting ducks.’

‘Charge them,’ said a centaur. ‘A full on assault.’

Edmund closed his eyes and drew in an audible breath through his nose. I examined the map and tilted my head.

‘No wait,’ I said, speaking without thinking. ‘The key is to draw them away from the gate. Then King Lune could organise a sortie and they would be surrounded. Cut off their escape routes by having the cats attack their horses.’

Edmund’s eyes flew open. ‘That’s it. Of course. How did you think of it?’

‘Military arts,’ I said, wrinkling my nose. ‘I had to take classes on strategy.’

‘Maybe everyone ought to take those classes,’ Edmund replied. ‘Because look.’ Here he moved the pieces to indicate what I had suggested. He beckoned for another piece, and he showed where the Archen army could attack from behind.

‘It’s a gamble expecting Lune to know he has to make a sortie,’ the satyr observed.

‘It’s no gamble. He will,’ said Corin. ‘Give him the chance and he will.’

‘That’s it then,’ said King Edmund decisively. ‘Notify the generals and get everyone mustered and ready to ride out by this evening. We will take our dinner with us.’ He nodded, and everyone hurried to see his commands obeyed. As they left, Edmund leant on the table before me and crossed his arms. ‘Tell me, Lord Peridan,’ he said, ‘Is there a bit in your Song of King Gale where he asks Peridan to bear the standard?’

I laughed, a dry and nervous laugh. ‘There is, actually.’

‘Well then, there is some historical precedent. You shall bear the standard.’

I bowed deeply to show how honoured I was. Still I felt the need to protest, ‘Your Majesty, you know I have not seen battle.’

Edmund threw up his hands. ‘Neither has my fair sister, and she is leading the archers, apparently. Besides, you earned it. You helped me see my way through.’

A scant two hours later and the castle courtyard hummed and heaved with the final preparations. Aides de camp bustled around with lists and news, passing these on to the generals, who ordered their troops into formation. The soldiers themselves shouldered packs and strapped on gear, the rumble of male voices echoing around the courtyard. Some of the cats yowled, and the soldiers turned to each other with a light of determination in their eyes. As I made my way through the courtyard, I heard them talking about sending Rabadash back home, and showing him for ambushing the friends of Narnia. They were so sure, and so full of righteous anger that some of it rubbed off on me as I threaded my way through.

I joined the Queens and Prince Corin on the steps, who were standing with Tumnus and Sallowpad. A moment after I joined them, Edmund came up the steps, his armour shining in the afternoon sun. The red lion on his breastplate was so bright it looked lit from within. His scarlet cloak fanned out behind him and his face was pale with determination. Still that shock of hair fell across his forehead, and he tossed his head to get it out of the way. 

‘Everything’s ready,’ he announced. ‘So this is it. Tumnus, I entrust the Queen to your care. Sallowpad, be ready to fly with news at any moment.’

Sallowpad swept into a bow. ‘The owls are also ready, your Majesty, so news can reach you and the High King day or night.’

Edmund nodded. ‘Su—you know what to do. If there’s any news, or any wind of anything here, send word to me or Peter at once. I do not expect it, but who knows. And if Peter should make it home before me...well...try to soften him a bit, won’t you? I expect he’ll be furious.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Susan said, to which Edmund only scoffed. She stepped forward to hug him. He returned her embrace tightly.

He turned to a page behind him and took the banner off him. This he held out to me. ‘This is yours now. There’s usually a bit more of a ceremony about this, but I hope you’ll understand, given the circumstances.’

I bowed as I took the standard. ‘The honour remains,’ I said.

‘You always manage to do the thing properly, don’t you?’ Edmund said with a shake of the head.

We walked down the steps to our waiting horses. The crowd parted before the monarchs. I walked by Edmund and Lucy, and I heard Susan behind us talking to Corin.

‘Thou wilt listen and be careful,’ she pleaded.

‘Yes,’ Corin said. ‘You’ve asked that of me three times already. And don’t talk to me like I’m a baby.’

I swung up onto my horse, the standard clasped in my hand. Lodestar pranced, his ears twitching, and I bent over his neck to soothe him. 

There was a great clanking and whirring of chains as the gates were opened and the portcullis raised. As I rode through, the horns blared, and the sound of them filled me up. As the sound of them faded away, I could hear Susan on the steps of the castle singing us off. When we came out on the other side, a breeze caught the banner and it spread out. The army cheered. 

I looked up at the banner and remembered seeing it fly above me years before. I sat astride Lodestar, who was then only a colt. I was mostly a colt myself, all long limbs and skinny frame, with awkward croaks in my voice. 

Nevertheless, for the cavalry exercises in military arts, I was holding the standard. Lodestar sidled a bit, but I had him pretty well under control. The red lion on the green background snapped smartly above me and I lifted my chin, ready to lead the group.

‘Now, gentlemen,’ the instructor began, ‘We know that Narnia has been liberated, and it may well be that one day the Emperor calls on you to serve. You must be ready—not only to fight, but to take your hereditary place in the lists.’

‘Why does Peridan get the banner, though?’ Gormal demanded with a frown. ‘I’m the governor’s son. Surely I outrank him.’

‘Ah,’ said the instructor, ‘In that you are mistaken. Not only because Peridan is a full fledged lord while you are the heir apparent, but because Lionshaim is the most important lordship in Narnia.’

I said nothing and lifted my chin higher.

‘Too bad he’s dragging his house through the mud,’ Rehan muttered.

‘That,’ said the instructor primly, ‘Is a serious smirch on someone’s honour. Peridan could challenge you, if he so wished.’

Half the boys swivelled to look at me, clearly wishing I would challenge Rehan, especially as the instructor seemed to permit it. Still I remained silent, and gripped the standard tighter.

‘But sir,’ Taran interposed, ‘Can you besmirch someone’s honour if what you say is true?’

The instructor clucked at this, but Taran’s words clearly gave him pause.

‘I’m ready to begin whenever you wish, sir,’ I piped up, hoping that we could start and forget this.

Gormal snorted. ‘Begin trying to kiss all of us, you mean.’ The boys who knew laughed cruelly, but there were quite a few faint titters.

‘Gormal! Enough! Your father will hear about this. You cannot go accusing Lord Peridan of such things. He has a right to his title.’

‘Not to be disrespectful to you, sir, but Gormal’s accusations are not baseless,’ Taran explained.

‘W-what do you mean?’ faltered the instructor.

I ducked my head and shut my eyes.

‘I thought everyone knew that he had been caught with Simar,’ Taran observed.

‘Kissing,’ Rehan clarified, his tone making it clear how disgusting he found it.

The instructor turned to me, his mouth open in shock. ‘Deny it. Tell the truth and say it isn’t so, on your honour.’

I fretted my dry lips together and pulled hard on Lodestar’s reins to make him still. I had been one of the star pupils, and now he was staring at me with a mixture of fear and disgust.

‘On my honour, I cannot,’ I whispered.

His lip twisted, and he wrenched the standard from my hands. ‘Gormal. Take this. You are in the line of Lionshaim, though not its heir.’ Gormal came forward to accept the standard with a toss of his hair. The instructor wheeled back on me. ‘You—go. If you think the Emperor will suffer people like you in his army, in his presence, you are sorely mistaken. A man like you with any sense would surrender his family name, let it die or pass on to a distant cousin’ here he nodded to Gormal, ‘Than to let the most historic names in these islands suffer such a sullying. Go. I will not teach you anymore.’

I slid off Lodestar’s back and led him out of the arena. I had no choice. I didn’t look back, but I could feel the anger and hatred of everyone as they watched me go.

My back was not yet healed, so I could not bear to think of what Uncle would do. I loitered around Narrowhaven until I found Orran, and I begged him to let me stay in his retiring house. I would not answer any of his questions. I didn’t speak at all. Instead, I read and reread the Song of King Gale, wanting to believe that he and the first Peridan had loved each other. I didn’t quite know how my brain had seized upon the idea, but I thought if I could just find the proof, then perhaps I could justify myself. After two days I emerged with some woolly interpretations but no actual proof, and so I sobbed out the whole story to Orran. He vowed to get me back into school, but I refused this. I didn’t want to go. He suggested we take a walk to think things through. As we approached the square, we saw that the Christmas choristers were there, only now they bore green banners with a red lion rampant. The bass drum was accompanied by smart snares, and the trumpets played a fanfare.

‘Narnia is free and we rejoice!’ Cried the chorister, and the crowd cheered.

‘The Emperor, Peter the High King, and his consorts, Queen Susan, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy remember their Island citizens and will arrive on a state visit.’

Orran gripped my shoulder hard. ‘This is your chance,’ he murmured in my ear. ‘Change what people make of you. Make a good impression on these kings and queens and your life will take a different course. It is what your father dreamed for you.’

I stared at the banner flapping against the blue sky. I never learned all the rules and decorum of how to do the thing, but I was here, riding at the head of the Narnian army with King Edmund behind me.


	17. Drunk Delight of Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Anvard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this chapter depicts a battle from the point of view of one of its fighters, it is pretty brutal and bloody. A warning for those who need it (although I don't think that's my audience, but nevertheless).

We made camp fairly late and had a hasty meal of cold food before everyone repaired to their tents. Edmund sent word that we would rise early. He ate distractedly, studying the maps of Anvard while chewing his food. He did not converse beyond necessary replies.

I went to my tent, but I couldn’t sleep. I sat on my cot, flipping idly through my sketchbook. I examined a series of studies I had done of King Gale and Peridan, illustrating the lines from the Song that could almost imply that they loved each other. I didn’t dare draw anything explicitly, though I did indulge myself thinking that way sometimes. I touched up these drawings, and realised with a start that I had put into King Gale’s expression the same sparking interest I saw in Edmund’s eyes. I knew I should put the sketches aside, but dwelling on these details managed to distract me from my fear that I might never finish this sketchbook, that I might die the next day. Every time that thought encroached, I bent over the drawings and sketched more intently.

‘Peridan? You’re still up.’ Edmund appeared at the entryway of my tent, holding the flap aside with the back of his hand.

I could only shrug at this. I started to rise and bow but he put out a hand to stop me.

‘I came because I saw your light,’ Edmund explained. He wagged a finger. ‘We’ve got a big day tomorrow, sir. You should be in bed.’

I pursed my mouth. ‘Does the same apply to my noble captain?’

He laughed a bit and came forward. He cast himself on the cot, stretching out. ‘I knew I could count on you.’

‘Always,’ I replied, my eyes sweeping over him. He was far too appealing like that, so I returned to the drawing. ‘Although what were you counting on me for?’ I paused, weighed my next words in the balance, and decided the payoff of perhaps making him smile outweighed the possibility of his displeasure. ‘I am a man of many talents.’

He chuckled lowly. ‘Now that is certainly true.’ He stretched, and then jumped up. ‘Come for a walk with me.’ He extended his hand and I let him pull me to my feet. For a moment we stood just inches from each other. I stepped away and opened the flap for him with an exaggerated bow. He laughed again as he went out, and I followed him out into the blue-washed landscape of a moonlit night. 

Narnia stretched out before us, quiet under the stars. Edmund grew thoughtful, and his face seemed even paler in the thin light, the sharp shadows making him seem even more careworn. I knew, without being able to explain how this knowledge came to me, that he needed to feel normal, to remember he could laugh. He was thinking serious thoughts and he couldn’t bear the full weight of them.

We walked round the edge of the camp in silence for awhile. ‘I’m turning into my brother, pacing around the night before battle,’ he said, and though his tone was wry, his voice was part of the quiet.

‘Does he also drag his friends round with him?’ I asked, arching my brow. Easier than thinking of him whispering to me at midnight.

He exhaled a short laugh through his nose. ‘No, that’s my own touch. I just need someone to soothe my ego.’

‘Oh, is that why you keep me around?’ I said, ‘Because I said you would make a fetching damsel in Tashbaan?’ This was too easy. Too natural.

He laughed. ‘Something like that. Otherwise I might start thinking about how I’ve never led the army before. Peter’s always there to give the inspirational speeches.’

‘Now, Sire, don’t tell me that you can’t see your own strengths. I would never believe it,’ I teased. Edmund answered with a wry look.

I affected a sigh. ‘Very well then. I shall list all your feats leading us out of Tashbaan, rallying the army in the space of hours…’

‘I didn’t do much on either count,’ Edmund muttered.

‘Ah, but there I must disagree. Everyone marched off cheerfully, riding well past dinner, mind you, to follow your command. Perhaps Tumnus came up with the idea to escape, but you led us through, and out of, Tashbaan.’ I paused, and then added softly, ‘I don’t know what my service is worth, as I have not seen battle, but I am ready to follow you. To the end.’

‘Well now who’s getting grim?’ Edmund demanded. ‘You are to take care of yourself, my good lord. Otherwise who am I going to play chess with?’

As we laughed, his eyes met mine. I felt as though a wind blew through me and struck me right in the heart with such a tenderness it took my breath away. I knew then that what I felt for him was more than desire. I loved him. All this time, I had been falling in love with him. I almost reached out to touch him, but I clenched my hand into a fist instead. Though fear pounded in my chest and my heart broke for such wasted love, I could not feel sad. Then it all came together at once. I loved him; it was hopeless. Except that we were riding into battle together, so I could do my utmost to save him. I would die for him if I had to.

I woke the next morning before the bugle call, and I lay with my hands behind my bed, staring at the tent fabric above me. So. I loved King Edmund. Probably, I reflected, it would be better if I died defending him. I would not have to face the pain and shame of him discovering the truth one day. I could fulfill my father’s wish for me, for what could be more noble than dying to defend the king? Perhaps it would even buy me enough forgiveness to see Aslan’s country. 

Probably it would be better. And yet, somehow, I did not want this to be my last morning. The fear that it would be made my body tingle with a cold emptiness.

I took my place at the head of the column and the trumpets sounded. The banner snapped in the breeze and the air blowing in my face was sweet. I still felt afraid, but the grimness started to burn off. This was something noble indeed, riding to save the Archenlanders from a siege by Rabadash. 

We came upon a little hamlet, or what served as a sort of hamlet for the woodland creatures of Narnia, and Edmund caused the trumpets to be sounded to alert everyone to our approach. The Creatures began popping out of burrows and tree hollows to see the royal army, and they waved and cheered. 

We reached a cottage where Dwarfs were making low bows to us and I noticed that one seemed very tall and fair for a dwarf. Edmund held up his hand and called out ‘Now, friends! Time for a halt and a morsel!’ Everyone was very happy to hear news of breakfast, and there was a cheerful hubbub as everyone set about getting it. I was searching through my bag for my own rations when I heard Edmund say ‘Who is your Highness’s friend?’

I turned and saw Corin standing next to a boy who could have been his twin. ‘Don’t you see, Sire?’ He said. ‘It’s my double: the boy you mistook me for in Tashbaan.’

As Lucy exclaimed over the likeness, could not quite agree with her. Though their faces were mirrors of each other, their manners belied them as two different boys. Even standing still and momentarily silent Corin showed himself to be bold and proud, whereas the other boy shrank away. He apologised for overhearing our plans. Edmund forgave him readily, even daring to tease ‘But if you would not be taken for a traitor, another time try not to hear what’s meant for other ears.’ When the boy did not crack a smile (although Corin did), Edmund hastened to add ‘But all’s well.’

I wanted to befriend him, because he looked as though he too had been used roughly. Before I could approach him, though, Edmund called me away to discuss tactics over breakfast. His mind seemed to be racing down twenty paths at the same time. He would start one thought only to break off and begin another, he talked in a rush only to pause at odd points in the sentence to filter the thoughts from his brain to his mouth. At one point, he started talking about the giants but broke off and called a dwarf to him. When the dwarf Thornbut appeared, he bade him to watch over Corin during the battle—to bind Corin to his side if necessary. Thornbut bowed again and went off, presumably to find Corin to tell him. 

‘Surely it won’t come to that,’ Lucy objected.

‘Won’t it?’ Edmund returned, ‘For I call Lord Peridan to witness what Corin did in Tashbaan.’

Edmund went back to the giants. At last Edmund paused and exhaled, then drummed his fingers on his chin. ‘What next? I feel as though I’m missing something.’

‘Food,’ Queen Lucy said, pressing a pasty into his hand. ‘You can’t command us if you’re weak from hunger.’

Edmund smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes. He tucked into the pasty, and we lapsed into silence as we ate—until shouts broke the quiet. We hurried to the source of the ruckus to discover that Corin had tried to box Thornbut, and at the start of the match Thornbut had twisted his ankle.

As the story became clearer, Edmund’s face went white, and two pink spots stood out on his cheeks. When he understood that Corin had challenged Thornbut to a ridiculous match, he threw up his hands and shouted, ‘By the Lion’s Mane, Prince, this is too much! Will your Highness never be better? You are more of a heart’s-scald than our whole army together! I’d as life have a regiment of hornets in my command as you.’

Eventually Corin had the grace to look chastened. He tried to offer himself as a solider, but Edmund only dismissed this with a scoff. He softened a little at Corin’s crestfallen expression and added, ‘No one doubts your courage.’ Then he drew himself up. ‘But a boy in battle is a danger only to his own side.’

We pressed on. After gathering the reports from the scouts, Edmund was determined to make it to Anvard before the day was through. ‘Else we might be too late,’ he murmured.

On the way, he and Queen Lucy rode abreast of me, and we finalised the battle plans, made contingencies. It was almost like being in military arts class, when the teacher would talk us through a battle plan and then throw a new scenario that we had to adapt. Edmund played each scenario out like a game of chess, and he tortured himself thinking of more and more possibilities. When he said, ‘If it should rain, and we cannot gain purchase going down the hill—‘ Lucy interrupted him.

‘Edmund, how will it rain? We ride under a cloudless sky, and the scouts report that the weather is all fair from here to Anvard. Rain clouds don’t materialise out of nowhere.’ She frowned and cast about her. ‘Though some things do seem to disappear. Where is his goosecap highness?’

‘Not in the front, and that’s good news enough,’ Edmund growled. ‘Leave well alone. Lu, I need you to pay attention to this.’

‘But you’re worrying about a thing that will not happen! We’ve been over every contingency. We can rattle the plan off,’ Queen Lucy protested. ‘You’re worrying for it’s own sake.’

‘I’m not,’ Edmund retorted. ‘Trust me. You need to know this so well that you don’t even have to think about what’s next, because you won’t have time to think. You will be trying to see your way through. You’ll be watching Narnians suffer. You’ll be fighting for your own life. This is why Peter trains every morning without fail. This is why I’ve worked so hard at chess. It’s why our friend Peridan here trained even as a boy.’ He turned to me. ‘The way you talk makes it seem that people use it for pomp and circumstance, but trust me when I say your training will serve you in good stead on the battlefield.’

Lucy laid her hand on her brother’s arm. ‘Edmund. You are forgetting that you are not alone in this. Aslan watches over us.’

‘And we ride beside you,’ I added.

Edmund looked between us both, his mouth screwed up as though he was trying not to betray his emotions. At last he said rather gruffly, ‘I should congratulate myself on having such a keen eye. I have the best generals with me. Peter was a fool not to see it, but as usual, I profit from his foolishness.’

Lucy and I both laughed, in part because we were amused by Edmund’s jibe at his brother, but more because we were relieved to see Edmund making a joke.

We came through the mountain pass and the whole country was spread out below us in its misty greens and purples, the sinking sun piercing it with gold.

‘One more ridge to go.’ Edmund stared straight ahead. He signalled a halt, and then gave another signal. The army fanned out—cats on the left, giants to the right. Lucy turned to fall to the rear with the archers, but Edmund grabbed her arm.

‘Remember the plan. And—take care, Lu. Promise.’

Lucy threw her arms around her brother. ‘I will. And you. Don’t do anything stupidly heroic.’

‘No unnecessary risks,’ they said in unison, and smiled at each other. I learned later that this was the promise Susan exhorted from her brothers whenever they went off to war. They embraced once more, and then Lucy turned to me. She laid her hand on my arm and jerked her head toward Edmund. ‘He needs someone to watch out for him,’ she said, ‘But take care of yourself too.’ Then she took her place.

‘So we come to it,’ Edmund said. 

My head spun and my insides felt like lead. Once I had longed to be on the edge of battle, but once I arrived, I wished I could be somewhere safe and quiet.

I turned back to Edmund and saw that he was fiddling with his gauntlet. The strap had loosened somehow and he couldn’t seem to manage to tighten it, and the more he tried the less it wanted to go. He was grunting and swearing under his breath in frustration. I stayed his hand and did up the strap. Then that rush of tenderness, and a resolve to protect him no matter the cost overtook the fear. The words came unbidden into my head: ‘I am so in love with you.’ I had to bite them back.

‘Are you with me?’ He murmured.

‘To the end,’ I answered. There was a ring of certainty, even of bravery in my voice.

He nodded and we turned to the battle. We started off at a trot and crested then final ridge. Anvard sat in the centre of the valley, its gates shut and the portcullis down. They had been prepared, and we all rallied a bit at the sight of the defenders on the walls, frowning down at the battering ram which was hammering the gates with dull thuds. The trumpet sounded, and Edmund’s horse reared up and began to gallop. Not to be outdone, Lodestar did the same. The wind rushed in my ears and the pounding of horses’ hooves sounded like thunder..

The Calormenes not manning the ram leapt into the saddle and swung round to meet us. My heart hammered, but I spurred Lodestar on. If this was my fate, let it come.

The armies met with a crunch and a crash. Horses and men alike shouted. I saw a rider coming towards me and calculated the angle I needed to knock him from his horse. I watched him fall. I saw his skull crushed in under his own horse’s hoof, and the spray of blood reached so high it splattered my armour. My stomach roiled and I turned away, only to see two Calormenes bearing down on me. I pulled out both swords and unhorsed one before I impaled the other through the neck. I yanked the sword out, and the blood bubbled from his throat and mouth. His eyes flashed with fear, then saw something beyond us, and then went blank. Such a wet, quiet death.

The screams of horses brought me back to myself. The cats had done their work. If we could get the ram down, we’ll have a solid chance, I thought. But when I glanced over, the Calormenes at the ram were swinging it one handed, holding their shields above their heads. The Narnian arrows glanced off them.

I fought through a couple more Calormenes, then dodged a couple more, trying to see a way round the battering ram. Edmund was right—when I wasn’t thinking about impressing anyone, my training made defensive tactics almost reflexive. My eyes swept the scene, taking in enemy positions, our positions, searching for a way to get the ram down. 

I found Edmund. His face was pale, his jaw set and his eyes flashing. He knocked one Calormene off his feet with a punch of his shield, then whirled round and lopped the head off the attacker behind him. I gaped at his ferocity. As my eyes swept around Edmund I spied Rabadash, fighting to get to him. I saw also that Edmund was getting pressed into a corner. I spurred Lodestar forward and engaged an enemy on horseback. Other Narnians followed me, and so the press of battle pushed Rabadash back.

The screams of men mingled with the snarls of cats, and the battering ram went down. I could not watch for long: the cats were so vicious, and the Calormenes so wild with fear I almost felt sorry for them. Then there was a new trumpet call and above all the crashes and shouts, the clanging of metal. The portcullis was going up, the gates opened. The Archenlanders made their sortie, King Lune at the front. I cheered as Ied a group forward, pushing those that remained back against the Archenlanders.

I looked round for Edmund again and saw that the Calormene offence now concentrated on him. I could see Rabadash in his golden armour sweeping his way towards the king once more. The Calormene soldiers cleverly cleared a path for him, some engaging Edmund to keep him there while others kept the Narnians from getting to him. Rabadash would soon leap on him unawares.

I jumped down from Lodestar’s back and fought my way to Edmund, dispatching those Calormenes which tried to stop me with quick moves—tripping them up or elbowing their faces rather than engaging properly. Sloppy fighting, my sword master would have said, but it got the job done. My breath came ragged, and my arms ached. Rabadash was closer, and I could see Edmund surrounded by Calormenes. And then, when I was only yards from him, he went down.

I cried out his name, and it was swallowed in the noise of the battle. Before my cry was finished I was already sprinting to him. A Calormene attacked me from the side, and as I jumped out of his way, I slipped myself. I scrabbled to my feet, keeping my eyes on Edmund. He wasn’t rising. I lunged forward, trying to see the shortest line to him while keeping my eye on Rabadash’s advance. Rabadash was almost there. Edmund was still on the ground. One sword stroke and Edmund would be dead—if he wasn’t already. I used the last strength in my legs to leap in front of Edmund. I crossed my swords, trapping the blade of a scimitar that would have come down on his head. The attacker snarled; it was Rabadash himself. 

‘You!’ He screamed, his eyes rolling. ‘I will gut you where you stand and laugh as you beg for the mercy of death.’

‘Go ahead and try,’ I answered with a snarl of my own. I slid one sword out and then I was on the attack. I beat him back a few paces, and soon the battle separated us. I turned back to Edmund, hardly daring to see if he was alive.

He was wincing in pain, but he was already on his knees. I gripped his elbow and pulled him to his feet. ‘Peridan,’ he gasped. ‘You saved—thank you.’

‘I swore I was with you,’ I said.

He only gave me a piercing look.

‘We have almost won the hour,’ I told him. ‘They are surrounded.’

‘Then let me have at this assassin, and I will finish it,’ Edmund said, and his ferocity made me shiver.

‘I am by your side to the end,’ I said, and he nodded.

We made our way forwards, fighting side by side, mirroring the swinging of our swords. Now Edmund targeted Rabadash. I beat off those who would deter him. Then the vile prince was in range and with a yell Edmund attacked. Rabadash turned, and for a split second I saw him blanch before Edmund’s fury. Then his scimitar was up and he was giving as good as he got. 

They fought in the very gate of the castle. Rabadash wasted a lot of breath yelling about Barbarians and some terrible insults to Susan as well as Edmund himself. Edmund said nothing, and let his sword speak for him. It flashed gold in the sunset. They circled round each other until Rabadash seized a chance and jumped on a mounting block to gain the higher ground.

He had gotten in perhaps two swings of his scimitar before a dozen arrows flew at Rabadash at once. He cast about, and I could see the wheels turning in his head before he screamed in a terrible voice ‘The bolt of Tash falls from above!’ And prepared to jump. I darted forward to try and protect Edmund from this fatal blow, for the force of Rabadash’s armour and his scimitar would surely bring Edmund down, even with him jumping sideways. I saw the naked fear in Edmund’s face.

But Rabadash never landed on the ground. He got caught somehow, and I stared at this in such amazement that I did not see the last brave Calormene charge past me to make a final stand, even though the battle was over everywhere else. Edmund’s lip curled and he met the Tarkaan head on. The Tarkaan made a grand show of it, twirling and telegraphing his moves, and I could see that he didn’t really have hope of winning—he just wanted to hold his head high. Edmund had little patience for this, and dealt a swift succession of blows which made the Tarkaan reel backwards. Then Edmund disarmed him, and he fell to his knees in surrender. I seized his scimitar.

I whirled round, ready to face the next enemy, but there was no one to fight. All the other Calormenes had surrendered or lay dead at our feet. A wild, fierce elation filled my throat, choking me with the excitement. Still, I hardly dared to believe until I saw Edmund shake hands with King Lune across the battering ram. We had done it. We had won. 

A wave of breathless, weary, happy cheers rippled through the army until a whine of frustration rose above this noise. Everyone turned to see Rabadash, his mail shirt hitched up, his legs kicking as he tried to swing a scimitar despite having no freedom of movement in his arms and we all laughed.

‘Let me down, Edmund!’ Rabadash screamed, but even in that scream there was a whinging quality. ‘Let me down and fight me like a king and a man; or if you are too great a coward to do that, kill me at once.’

Edmund’s lip curled and he narrowed his eyes. ‘Certainly,’ he declared, and took a step towards Rabadash with a look that said he meant to end this once and for all. In that moment he looked as imposing as his brother.

King Lune laid a hand on his arm. ‘By your Majesty’s good leave—not so.’ And he turned to Rabadash and called him a traitor to his face and said he didn’t deserve a clean battle and that he was to be imprisoned. The prince was born away howling and crying.

Thus ended the siege of Anvard.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: As mentioned in the summary, I've completed the draft of this story and am just doing cleanup edits as I post. It is a story that has been rattling round in my head in some form or another for over a decade. The whole idea came from a throwaway line in Youcantseeus's stirring story 'The Blurring of Memories' where Edmund tells Caspian that Peridan was with him wherever he would go.   
> That evocative line in a powerful story turned it into headcanon for me. i started an earlier version of Peridan's story, The Artist's Tale, which I published on fan fiction.net, but took it down because frankly it was kind of a hot mess. After a lot of development and drafting, this is a lot closer to the story I wanted to tell, although it is long!
> 
> I drew a lot of inspiration for the Lone Islands from my visits to the Mediterranean, specifically Greece for the culture (and how it is so similar to and yet also the complete opposite of Turkey, Lewis' clear inspiration for Calormen. I also drew a lot on my visit to the island of ischia in the bay of Naples for the aesthetics of the Lone islands. Chapter titles, and indeed the title of the story itself come from Tennyson's poem 'Ulysses' which has become a firm favourite of mine now. And now I've gone on longer than Peridan himself, so I'll shut up and hope you enjoy.


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